


I Find the Light in You

by DorkPatroller (Lilmissprine)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Worlds, Arranged Marriage, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Vague Sex, after FE Fates, hardcore spoilers, i mean vague but it's definitely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6790024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilmissprine/pseuds/DorkPatroller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, I... I can't. I'm not... I don't think I'm Exalt material.” Chrom actually chuckled at Owain's comment, but Owain hadn't been farther from making a joke in his life. </p><p>-----------------------------</p><p>They thought they were going home. Their real home. When they got there it became clear things weren't the way they had expected--and Owain isn't ready for the responsibilities being placed upon him. Changes are coming, and he just isn't sure he can live up to everyone's expectations. Luckily he has some help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue 1

**Author's Note:**

> big fat warning: Spoilers out the ass and also I have taken some creative liberties. Bonus: this is my first time posting on Ao3. That is all.

Prologue 1

Robin's hair fell down over her shoulder in a delicate braid. Things had changed dramatically, though it seemed in some ways nothing had changed at all. It was a struggle for her to deal with this feeling. She knew she was not the only one who felt it. Many of the once-shepherds felt it. Some recognized it as suppressed memories from an altered timeline, while others considered it deja vu. But Robin knew. Every day she pushed back Lucina's hair and reminded her how proud she was of her for doing it. For changing their fates. She kissed her son's head and told Morgan how thankful she was that he found them. 

The Fell Dragon was gone. It was gone, and in time Robin returned, and by Naga's blessings the children who sacrificed everything to save their world were able to return to it. They came back not to find ruins, or rubble. They came back to their own homes. They woke in their own beds and were greeted by their own parents. 

Robin knew it was difficult for all of them to adjust. To come to a world that was their own, but seemed like a dream must have been jolting. With nearly no memory of war, they remembered little of their own deaths... but their parents did remember something entirely new: having met their children as adults, long ago in their past. Before they were even born. They knew that their children had saved them. They would never forget that sacrifice.

“Morgan, what are you so excited to tell us?” Robin asked, watching the young man bounce in place. Lucina strolled closer to her brother and stood on her toes to reach eye level with him. Only a few years and a growth spurt made him even in height with Chrom, after all. 

Chrom, the reigning Exalt. He had ruled his country with pride and power. The people loved him and respected him, but word of mouth made him see that they longed for an Exalt who would once more embody peace. Lucina was heir, and with war long gone, but not nearly forgotten, she hoped that she might live up to their expectations. She trained herself to be calm, not to jump for a weapon at every creak in the night... but these habits died hard. Very hard.

“Is it about you-know-who?” She asked her brother, who flushed and put his hands up. 

“I don't know what you mean!” Morgan protested, but only one firm glare from his sister and he was admitting to the lie. “Alright! Alright, yes, it's about 'you-know-who'.” 

“Would you two care to share who 'you-know-who' is?” Chrom asked, taking a seat in the grass. Robin smiled at her husband and he returned the gesture. This was what Ylisse stood for. For peace. For families enjoying the countryside for a picnic, with no cares except for what their eccentric son was going on about. Lucina sat as well, and then Morgan was left standing alone. 

He blushed, simply because it seemed entirely too awkward to be the only one standing. He didn't sit, however, just pushed his hand through his hair in a way not unlike his father and shrugged. 

“Out with it!” Robin practically begged of her son. He chuckled at her annoyance.

Finally, after a few seconds more of thought, he said “I meant to be more ceremonious about this. It's about Cynthia.” 

Cynthia was Sumia's daughter. Also the daughter of Frederick, she was destined for greatness. Only the month before she had been promoted within the Falcon Knights, taking on the duties of leading her own squadron. Of course even before then they would have known who she was. Close in age to Morgan and Lucina (as were most of the unsung heroes Robin knew), she spent a lot of time playing with them. As a trusted retainer to the Exalt, Sumia refused to leave his service even when she took care of her daughter... and she practically grew up in the castle with the siblings and with Lissa's son.

“What about her?” Chrom asked, noting how Morgan seemed to drift off. He was good at getting lost in thought, but he was also a brilliant young man. Barely in his twenties and Chrom knew that should war ever befall them that Morgan could likely navigate through it with twice the success as Robin. Such a strategic boy... one would think he could navigate conversation without issue.

“I'll tell them if you want.” Lucina suggested. Morgan flapped his lips at her before nearly shrieking a protest, and Robin quickly turned to her daughter. 

“You know what he's talking about?” 

“I think I've figured it out.” Lucina answered. “He--”

Morgan wouldn't have that. He blurted out his news before he could even consider letting his sister do it for him. “I've asked her to marry me.” 

Their reactions were what anyone would hope for. Robin and Lucina's faces lit up, with the princess declaring she actually hadn't known at all. Chrom's face was more composed than theirs, but there was some amount of pride and approval pasted onto it that Morgan clung to. This was a decision that they approved of, it seemed. 

Lucina jumped to her feet and spun Morgan around in a circle, before she asked “When shall we announce the engagement? We should have a party—don't you think?” She asked her parents. 

Robin nodded, and she opened her mouth to talk about the preparations when her expression changed from elation to fear. Lucina was confused momentarily. The next second she gasped and reached up her arms numbly. Her arms were heavy. Her breath felt like fire. Everything was in slow motion. Robin moved forward to catch her. Lucina fell to her knees in the grass. Then she slumped into Robin's arms. Robin began to break the arrow off that has just sank through Lucina's back and through her chest, but the target is true. Chrom pushed himself to his feet, looking around. His eyes met the assassin's and he recognized her right away.

What he doesn't know is why. Before Morgan can even process for certain what is happening, before Chrom can hear over the pounding of blood in his ears, an ambush descended upon the family. Arrows rained down on them, and a man atop a wyvern made it close enough to put an axe into Robin's back. Her choked noises were enough to remind Chrom that he could move.

Morgan was frozen until his father grabbed for his wrist. Then he too ran. They needed to find cover and safety, and so Chrom headed for the trees. An axe whizzed past his head, narrowly missing him and Morgan both. The wyvern was drawing closer. 

Morgan stopped in his tracks when he heard Chrom scream. An axe had practically taken his arm clean off, but the man holding it withdrew it and laid his eyes on Morgan. The Exalt shouted through his pain. “Go! Morgan GO!” Even when he was hit in the back of the head with the butt of the weapon's handle, Chrom tried to persuade Morgan to flee. He begged him to run. Unfortunately for Morgan, he didn't get far. He stumbled in the uneven grass and got a mouth full of dirt. He pushed himself to his knees as fast as he could. His heart was beating so hard against his chest he felt it in his throat. He never made it back up to his feet. 

...

When Chrom woke Libra was leaning over him, his arm. “W-What happened..?” He groaned, but the pain in his arm was nothing compared to the pain in his heart when the monk answered him. 

“The royal family is dead.”


	2. Prologue 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is over and it's exciting to go home.

“This is it.” Laslow broke the silence between the three of them. He looked over his shoulder at the distant castle. Within, King Xander ruled over a now peaceful kingdom. With the generous help of Xander and Ryoma both, Corrin was rebuilding his own kingdom, saving it from the half formed dimension it had become.

 

They always knew that once they completed their mission, they would leave. But now that they were gone, having left behind the royal family that they had learned to love so dearly... well it was almost sorrowful. Selena followed his gaze and snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Don't get soft. We knew this wasn't home.”

 

“And yet parting ways with this land feels like leaving behind a friend.” Odin argued on Laslow's behalf. The wind picked up, and as if he had summoned it himself Odin added “The winds of change are the strongest of them all. But the greatest reward will be the familiar embrace of home.”

 

“Well said, old friend.” Laslow agreed softly. “We were given the gift of returning home by Anankos. We should make good use of that blessing. Home sounds... wonderful.”

 

“That depends on which home you're talking about.” Selena muttered. “You're both still sure, aren't you?”

 

The decision to return home was set. The three of them had talked of it a million times. There was no life for them in the world they had saved. They were already there—as children. Innocent lives that would never be tainted by war. They wanted to return to their _real home_.

 

“We're going home. Our home. Not theirs.” Laslow clarified for her, so she knew that he understood. Odin nodded his head in agreement.

 

“Once we go back... we can rebuild.” Selena decided. “Not everyone in the world is dead. Grima is gone—we can fix things. Or at least... we can try.”

 

“Our hands are brushes painting the scenery of a new paradise to call our own.” Odin grinned. “One with homage to our families... but perhaps not exactly the same.”

 

“When we go back, do you think our appearances will change again?” Laslow asked. “Will we remain our same age? Do you wonder if time has passed differently there?”

 

Odin considered him. “Do you mean to tell me you're worried your hair may be a _slightly different_ shade of gray?”

 

“I would love to have my hair back!” Selena pulled a pigtail into her hands and looked at it. “I look too much like her with this hair.” She added. It came out bitter, but Laslow and Odin knew it was merely a cover. They all missed their families. She was no different, bit looking in the mirror and seeing her reflection must have reminded her a great deal more often of her mother.

 

“My hair was not gray!” Laslow fought.

 

“Oh, are you going to argue? I thought you hadn't heard me.” Odin joked.

 

“It was light, yes, but it was closer to the tint of--” Laslow stopped talking when he noticed that Selena was no longer walking. “Selena..?”

 

“Here. I think we should do it here.” She looked embarrassed, but neither of them knew why. She wasn't wrong though. Standing where they stood, it seemed like power coursed through them. Although many of them were gone, now, Odin knew what it was.

 

“Ah, a dragon vein lives here.” Laslow hummed. “Yes. I imagine it will have the most power here.”

 

Holding it between them, they all gently held the crystal ball. They weren't sure how it worked, but they knew that they all wanted to be touching it, just in case. This was it. They were going home.

 


	3. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home feels a lot less like home than they anticipated. Also Owain gets some pretty life changing news.

Owain woke with a raspy gasp and his eyes flew open to the skies. Immediately he realized those skies were bright and full of brilliant blues and sunshine, and he squished them shut again. “Ugh,” His groan was of pain, but more from his poor eyes than the landing. Well, his poor eyes and the weight on his chest. He reached out blindly and shoved against the body atop his. Admittedly with less compassion than he could have, he pushed the body that he knew belonged to Inigo onto the ground. “Your weight is like boulders crushing down upon my mighty—Oof—e _verything!_ Get off!” A final rough shove and a somewhat rewarding yelp from Inigo granted Owain freedom, and he sat up enough to rub the back of his head and blink his eyes back into a bleary reality.

“I've had remarkably better wake up calls.” Inigo protested in that ever-smooth voice. They were different, the two of them. Inigo could speak so smoothly it was like shimmering liquid silk sliding off of his tongue. Owain's excitement was always evident in his voice, and his theatrics often made his words seem choppy—if not well thought out. Inigo was the first thing Owain's eyes took to focusing on, as they adjusted to the light. It was never this sunny in Nohr, and to suddenly be faced with that much light was somewhat... devastating to the pupils. “...Where are we?”

The question caused Owain to look away from Inigo and take in their surroundings. The clear blue heavens, the lush green fields, even the path they had landed on seemed to be familiar. It was just like he remembered it; their home before Grima destroyed everything. Before he died, Anankos had promised to restore it for them, but this was beyond incredible. It was as if nothing bad had ever happened, as if the memories of the Fell Dragon were wiped away entirely.

Inigo's voice caught his attention again. The mercenary was in the middle of standing up, but he seemed stricken by something. Then he said “The capitol is on the horizon.” Sure enough, Owain could see the tops of buildings in the distance. Not too far away, he could even see the outline of the castle he grew up in. A castle he knew had been destroyed, a city he knew had been destroyed. Could Anankos have really provided them with such a vision? He had seemed so unsure of what his powers could provide...

“Great. We went to the wrong place.” Severa worried loud enough for Owain to hear. He tilted his gaze in her direction. Was that what happened? Had they perhaps gone to the wrong time? They had all been so sure about what they wanted, but even Owain would be lying if he didn't say some part of him selfishly wanted to stay with his mother while she was alive. He knew that wasn't an option, though: she needed to dedicate herself to her true son—not his future self.

It was then, staring at Severa, that he noticed her hair was no longer the scarlet shade her mother's had always been. If nothing else, at least they had gotten their wish to return to their previous identities. Although time still appeared to have passed the same here. Severa was the same age she had been in Nohr, and Inigo looked the same as well, in his face. But now Severa's hair had gone back to the orange shade she shared with her father, and although not exactly the same as they had always been her clothes were certainly the style she had always worn before.

She must have been noticing the same things, because her attention turned to Owain. He knew she was looking at his appearance but he honestly didn't care. He knew what he looked like: like the magnificent hero he was! Of course, where Owain was confident in himself almost all the time, he found the time to smirk at the hint of pink on Inigo's cheeks when he noticed Severa looking at him. She took in the same sights that Owain had just recently. Inigo's hair was pale, almost white, and there was just a subtle colorful hue to it. It was very different than the 'old man gray' that they had often joked about before. This was closer to silver, it was almost magical. It was the color he was born with, too, which made it even more special. “Wow. You two look different.”

“Don't stare.” Inigo blurted in response, earning a snort from the red head. She honored his wishes and turned away, but Inigo must have regained his composure a little bit. He took a deep breath and began dusting himself off, before he revised his previous statement. “A good different, I hope?” He asked in that smooth, confident voice again. He reached out to the brunette, and without hesitating Owain took his hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“Blech! Don't take that flirty tone with me.” Severa snapped in their direction. She missed his display of mock-hurt, but Owain didn't. He snickered at the exchange while he dusted himself off. It was partway through getting the dirt off the seat of his pants that he realized it had been a _while_ since he'd worn this type of clothing. It was heavier, obviously, but he was already glad to have it. While the traditional apparel for mages in Nohr was excellent for theatrics... well it was a bit revealing—even for someone as confident as Owain. Still, it was an effort to clear away the dust.

“Aw, is the magnificent Odin being brought to his knees by his secret weakness? Dirt?” Inigo teased, but he swept his hand down Owain's back a time or two to clear away some of it.

Owain only scoffed. “I think you mean the fearless _Owain_ Dark. I, who step forth in the darkest times, in the bleakest of battles, to project—!”

“Shut up Owain someone's here.” Severa cut in. Owain was only mildly offended that his valiant speech was being cut short. He turned his attention to the top of the hill again. Before they had only been looking at a landscape. Sure enough now there was a figure atop the hill, with the sun behind him, and it was quite difficult to discern his face.

“Hey! You there! Travelers? Friends? Foes? Crows?” He called out to them and when the sun began to pass behind a cloud Owain could see him better. He must have been a mage of some sort. He had one arm held high in the air, and it was then that Owain realized the clouds blotting out the sun were actually likely caused by the darkness swirling around his hand threateningly. His other hand was wrapped securely around a tome, one that Owain was sure harnessed dark magic that only an advanced sorcerer could use. He reached to his side by instinct to grab for his sword but...

Quickly Owain glanced at Inigo and Severa to see they were in the same boat. No weapons with them at all? How was _that_ helpful? There was something else bothering him, though. When he looked at Severa her hand was searching for her blade. Inigo, on the other hand... both of his hands hung at his side. He looked struck by something. A curse? A hex? Had this mage already attacked his friend without Owain's notice? Inigo whispered something, and Owain strained to hear it over the man who was making a speech about Ylisse, as if they were strangers to it. “...That voice...”

“I had a vision that something might happen here! Now I know I was right to come. Listen up you three, this Halidom is protected by—Hey! What are you doing?”

Inigo was walking up the hill. He wasn't even walking cautiously. He wasn't pretending to hold a weapon, and a glance at Severa assured Owain that she had no idea what he was doing either.

“Get back here!”

“You don't have a weapon!”

They both voiced their concerns in unison. Was this it? Had Inigo finally lost it? Owain was sure that he had a better head on his shoulders, but... then again... “Wait,” He murmured to Severa. He walked a few steps closer up the hill too, but nowhere near as close as Inigo had gotten. Now that the sky was so clouded, it was much easier to make out who that man was. In fact, it was no wonder that Inigo had been surprised. The sense of weakness that Owain had previously seemed to melt away, because he was sure this man could be nothing but a good sign.

Severa caught up to Owain but she didn't chase after Inigo either. In fact they just let him waltz up that hill in a stupor, because the closer he got the less likely it seemed he was in a shred of danger. The man lowered his arm, first, but then moments later he dropped the tome into the dirt beside him and did something somewhat unexpected: he opened his arms. Severa turned her attention to Owain, but just to confirm it with someone who was still sane, she asked, “Is that... Henry?”

Owain nodded his head. It had to be. Now it was easy to see his face, his clothes, his hair. He was the same man he had always been, minus the bright smile. The smile had been replaced with a look of concern. Or maybe surprise? He sputtered out “I-Inigo?”

That was about three seconds before the mercenary took up sprinting and ran headlong into his arms. For a second Owain thought they might both fall over, but it seemed like they had their gravity situation figured out. He took up walking to meet them atop the hill, and Severa followed.

This wasn't the world they meant to come back to. Owain was concerned, but he didn't want to say it aloud in the moment. They had expected to return to a world with dead parents, with graves and flowers and a scarce population. They must have come back to the wrong time after all. That didn't make reuniting with their parents any less exciting. Honestly that selfish part of Owain that wanted that wasn't even mad that they'd messed this up. Then again, there was something very different about Henry. He was the same, but... Well he seemed to have aged somewhat. Frankly after coming away from Nohr and it's deeprealms, the reality that more time may have passed here than there wasn't that surprising. It was the first conclusion that Owain jumped to.

For Inigo it wasn't even on his mind. His brain was clouded by the fact that they'd stumbled upon his father, alive. He hardly cared if they were in the wrong world or wrong time. He was more inclined to enjoy the electricity that came with his father's embrace, but it was cut short. Henry gently pushed Inigo back, pushed his hand through part of Inigo's hair. He looked him over up and down, and honestly Inigo was getting sick of being stared at for one day. “You look so grown up.”

“Undoubtedly! Your eyes lay upon a hero who has grown through trials and war, but reigns victori—Ow!”

“Stop it!” Severa hissed while she withdrew her arm from Owain's side. “They're having a _moment_. Obviously! Leave them alone!”

“Actually...” Inigo started to speak up his concerns. Now that he looked at Henry, well... he really was exactly the man that he remembered from his youth—if not a little older. It was striking, and made a feeling akin to homesickness settle over him. “Dad, I...”

“When you three didn't come back with the rest of them, we thought you'd died. We thought you'd been sent to another world or dimension on accident. We never thought we would see you again.” Henry spoke so softly that Owain hardly heard it, and he wasn't even sure what it meant. The rest of who?

“Gods, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Inigo whispered. He stepped out of the embrace his father had given him, and was joined by Severa and Owain at his side. “What do you mean the rest of them? Came back where?”

“Home.” Henry answered. “From the past. The one you went back to fix, remember?”

“Ex _cuse me_?” Severa cut in and honestly if she hadn't, Owain was sure that he would have. What Henry was saying was beyond comprehension. “Are you telling me that this is _our_ future? That's impossible! We were told it was impossible to revive a dead world!”

Henry looked at her with a remarkable amount of consideration for someone who had a perpetual smile plastered onto his face. It wasn't as comfortable to look at as Inigo's smile, either. Owain was sure that Inigo's smiles were genuine and that was why they were so reassuring. Henry's was... surely some kind of facade—and it only made Owain feel unsure. “I don't make the dragon god rules! Naga was the one who sent you back. I wasn't there—you'll have to ask one of the others who came back. I don't think this world was dead, though. You stopped our past from occurring, so...” He held his fingers up like he was counting. Inigo was hesitant.

“We have a lot to talk about.” That was what Inigo said, and frankly Owain couldn't have agreed more. They clearly weren't in their _real_ world... but they weren't in the past like they thought they were either. They were someplace entirely different. Still, Henry's words put hope in them. If their friends were the same friends who time traveled with them before, they would probably know all about what happened. They could explain it.

“Tons! And we will. But first...” Henry turned his head and looked at Owain. He sort of wanted to step out of his line of vision. Inigo's dad was _creepy_ when he wanted to be. No offense to either of them. Hopefully. “You should probably go see your parents. And Chrom! Say...you... You have the Brand of the Exalt, don't you?”

“Er...” Owain looked down at his arm when he was asked about it. The Brand of the Exalt. He'd had it his whole life, but Anankos had wiped it away from his skin like it had never been there. He actually felt a swell of pride and relief to see that it was there now, where it once had been. He'd missed it. It was his lineage, after all! A proud one at that. “I—yeah. I guess I do. So what?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking you should get into town! I'm sure your families miss you.”

Severa canted her hips to one side and rested her hands on them, and she didn't seem at all convinced. Frankly none of them were. Inigo had crossed his arms and Owain's stance was one of discontent as well. It was Severa who voiced it. “What are you getting at here? What does that brand have to do with anything? Why can't you just tell us what happened to everyone else, huh? I hate secrets!”

“No secrets! Just compassion. Why waste your time telling you something when your mother could, Severa?” Henry argued. It made her drop her guard a little. Why yes, her mother would be here, wouldn't she? If everyone was alive.

Everyone was alive. Alive and well and safe and it was a thought that coursed through Owain. His mother and father, still together in the palace. He looked up when Inigo asked “Wait... So mom..?”

Henry put a hand out on Inigo's shoulder. “Olivia is fine! That's what I'm getting at, why don't you—Hey! Inigo!”

Owain's heart skipped a beat. Not in fear, he supposed, because as he watched Inigo disappear into nothing but a mere speck in the distance he was far from worried about him. He knew where he was going—right in the direction of the cottage he grew up in. Owain had been there a million times. As kids it was full of sweets and silly songs an hide and seek. As teenagers it felt barren and dead. He supposed his worry stemmed from that old ache. But perhaps, if Henry was truthful, it would have the same comforting feeling it always had before?

“This isn't over Henry.” Severa promised. “I don't _do_ secrets. I'm going to find out what you're getting at. Soon. Come on, Owain.”

She gripped his wrist, and Owain felt like it was entirely unnecessary. The two of them ran down the road too, following fast in the steps of their friend. Severa looked back over her shoulder to see Henry scratching his head at the top of the hill, and shook her head.

“Something is up.”

“I know, right?” Owain didn't look back, but he knew she was right. “What was his deal with my brand? That seems like a weird thing to ask even someone as awe inspiring as I am!”

“Whatever. Let's just catch up to Inigo before he gets hurt. He's way too far gone down memory lane to keep his guard up—and I'm starting to think he needs to.”

 

...

 

Inigo was crouched in the hedges near his old home when they found him. The two of them joined him with something as far from grace as Inigo could have imagined. Owain fell over, resting his hands on his knees and gulping in breaths like he'd been missing out his whole life. “I have...never...seen you run...so fast!” He choked. Never! Honestly it was like Inigo had slipped right out of reality and just warped there. Severa was panting too, it wasn't just Owain, but Owain was the one that Inigo cupped his hand over the mouth of and shushed.

The fact that Owain licked his palm in protest shouldn't have been a surprise. Inigo pulled his hand back and flicked his wrist like he could fling the saliva away from him. “Ew— _Gross—_ Why would you lick..? Ugh.” Honestly Inigo's hiss of disgust was something that amused Owain, and the awkward taste of his skin on his tongue would be deemed worth it. He did hush after that, looking at Olivia through the hedges just as Inigo had been.

She was perfect. Her hair was braided up into a style not unlike she used to wear, still under the headband that she always wore. She dressed a little more modestly now, but not because her beauty was failing her. It couldn't have been, because she was like a bright pink sapphire shining in the sun. Owain could see why taking in this image was so important to Inigo. There she was, alive and well, the woman that Inigo cherished above any damsel he'd ever tried to woo into a stupor.

Of course just a moment later it became clear that Owain and Inigo did not see eye to eye on one thing. Olivia fumbled with her front door. She had a basket on her arm, in it fruits and vegetables that she'd surely gotten from the farmer's market in the square. Inigo seemed content to just watch her here, forever... but Owain wasn't. “Go talk to her!” He spoke up, just a little too loudly. Inigo whacked him in the arm in a way so similar to Severa that Owain was convinced they were both spending too much time with her. “Ow!”

Olivia turned. First her head, then her whole body faced the direction she had heard the voices coming from. Her eyes landed on them, focused on Inigo. When she did her pink lips parted, fell open into an 'o' shape, and the basket on her arm fell down to the ground. It cracked, the wood splintered, and the fruits rolled across the cobblestones in front of the cottage.

“Oh no,” Inigo whispered it. Owain felt it. It wasn't like he'd meant to scare Olivia, or make her drop her things. Inigo stepped out of the hedges before he had the chance to, and already began the process of picking up the fruits. Owain made to step forward too, but he felt Severa grip his shoulder.

“No. Let them do it.” She hissed. “Don't mess this up.”

Inigo bent forward to pick up the fruit but before he rightfully could Olivia pushed him back up by his shoulders so she could look at him. “Y-You're alive!” She squeaked it out but then a sob rose up in her chest. Inigo didn't know what to say. He didn't know how they had come back to a world that had their rightful parents in it, but he knew he would never argue so long as he could look upon Olivia's face for the rest of her days. He pulled her forward into a hug.

“So... how long are we going to hide in the bush? I think she already saw us, Severa.” Owain whispered. She made to elbow him again but this time he dodged it, with a laugh of triumph. “Ha! The great Owain Dark prevails!”

“Shut up! Shut up! You're going to ruin it again!” Severa spat. “Give it a few more minutes! Don't you have any sense of, I don't know, intimacy?”

“I think I was pretty intimate with Inigo's hand a few minutes ago.”

“Ugh! I hate you!”

“I love you.” Inigo spoke softly to his mother, in spite of his friends arguing in the hedges. He was either ignoring them or blissfully unaware that they were squabbling. He let her cry against him for a few seconds, but shortly after she pulled away and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeves. He thought she might not, but she did the same thing Henry did. She reached up and tilted his chin left and right, and examined him. He flushed of course. “M-Mother...”

“I love you so much.” Olivia answered him, and she laughed. “You've changed, but you grew up handsome. I always knew you would!” She let out another quiet laugh before she released him. Her attention turned to the hedges. She knew they were there, it seemed, because she stood on her toes to count them. Two. Both. They were both there, too. “I'm so glad you're back—their parents will be so glad they're back—I never thought I'd see you again, not in my wildest dreams. I'm so happy!”

“I'm sure their parents can't wait to see them.” Henry agreed. Inigo was startled. He hadn't even heard him approach—but to be honest that wasn't a surprising thing. Henry had always been light on his feet, it was part of what made him an intimidating enemy. Not that he was an enemy to them now.

Olivia nodded her head and sniffled one more time. “Y-yes. Cordelia will be so happy, and Gaius. Severa, you look so strong.”

Owain noted that was the cue to come out of the bushes. It had to be, because Severa did it. Even if he felt like he was right and that hiding was stupid, at least he knew she wouldn't beat him up for following her now. Frankly he could put up a good fight against her if he had a weapon, but just fist to fist, man to man? Well she would have destroyed him, certainly. Maybe it was that her hands were small—they looked like they should be delicate—but the force she put behind a punch could bring any man to his knees.

"Chrom will be interested too, I bet." Henry muttered in addition to his earlier comment.

“Why does Chrom need to see Owain so badly?” Inigo ended up asking. He glanced at Owain. He looked remarkably the same as he always had. Owain, Odin, it didn't matter what he was called or what clothes he wore, he was always going to be the same. He was always boisterous and loud and dramatic... all things he was remarkably not in this moment. Likely for the same reason Inigo was wiping away happy tears. There was something strange about this place.

“No—Henry!” Olivia argued with her husband. She crouched to begin picking up the fruits she'd dropped. While she did, she went on. “They should see their families first! Don't give them that sort of news right out of the gate...”

“What sort of news?” Severa asked. She raised an eyebrow at Olivia, and crossed her arms. It was a position she was familiar with, in which she seemed closed off and yet also strong. A stance that told a story. Owain had more than once poetically tried to name it. Severa had more than once threatened to punch him if he did.

Severa turned her attention entirely to Henry, with her angry stare in tact, but he didn't really seem fazed by it. Honestly Henry rarely seemed fazed by anything. “Maybe we should all go. Together.”

Inigo looked back at his father, and then at Severa, and he sort of agreed. Something was clearly going on. Henry was a surprisingly loving parent, and had always doted on all of Inigo's friends as well. He wasn't usually so serious about pressuring them, though. What did it really matter if he went to see Chrom? He would go see Lissa and Lon'qu first, no doubt... “I wouldn't mind seeing Chrom again.” He added, if only so Owain knew that he would happily escort him as well.

Maybe it was that they had just come out of another war. Owain really did feel suspicious about the situation. He almost felt like it was dangerous, like he was walking into a trap... but what could go wrong in the company of his family? His uncle was a wonderful man, and the Exalt—if he hadn't already passed that title down to Lucina. He looked down and saw Olivia's hand tighten around Inigo's.

“No,” She murmured. “No one needs to go see Chrom right away. Go spend time with your families. They missed you— _we missed you_. Please? Inigo, stay here, spend some time with me, I... You just got here... I don't want you to go get that sort of news right away...”

“Ha! I knew it!” Severa nearly shouted it, and Owain glanced at her with a frown.

What sort of bad news could it be? Was there another war? Was Grima back? Had something happened to his family? All of those thoughts were spinning through his mind so fast that he forgot to react to the conversation. He was just... thinking. Inigo must have thought it was going to hurt his brain or something if he kept that up, because he gently nudged him. Owain looked up at him and met his eyes, but he didn't say anything.

“Mother...” Inigo began to crouch again, to pick up her basket of groceries. Sure enough the wood was broken, but it would be easy to weave it back through to repair it. “When you say that, what sort of news do you mean?”

“It's just that...” Olivia bowed her head and shook it. “It's a long story. You should enjoy yourselves first. Inigo... won't you come inside for a while..?”

“I...” Would he? Owain wasn't sure he knew what Inigo was planning to do. It didn't matter. He'd sort of already decided what he wanted to do. Sure, this mysterious news was strange, but it didn't change that Owain wanted to go home. He wanted to see his mother and father and even his uncle. He wasn't going to dodge his family for the sake of an awkward feeling in his gut. “I'm not sure...”

“I am.” Owain shrugged. “I want to see my folks. You should stay here.” After saying that, Owain cleared his throat. “Our Trio of Justice may part ways, but we will reunite in another life!”

“Er—another life seems dramatic. How about this evening, or in the morning even?” Inigo tried. He smiled none the less. Owain was glad. Maybe his antics had put him at ease about staying with his mother.

“Fine. I'm going to go see my mom.” Severa muttered. She was still eyeing Henry suspiciously, but she supposed she would just find out what was up from Owain in the morning. Owain noticed she had her arms tucked around her tightly, and honestly he wondered if she was alright...

For just a moment Owain noticed Inigo's eyes lingering on him. He looked worried. It wasn't a very good look for him. A second later though he nodded his head. “I'll see you later.” There was something ultimately nerve wracking about the way Henry walked with his hand on Owain's shoulder, like he was escorting him to the castle.

 

…

 

There was something inherently strange to Owain about no longer being in the company of Inigo or Severa. He supposed when he said they were a trio he hadn't just been acting. It was truly odd to be alone. Granted there had been several occasions where they had all gone different directions in Nohr but... well this was different. They were home. Everything was 'over'. Maybe it was just the unease he felt in Henry's company, but he genuinely wondered if they may all drift apart.

No, he decided. They would stay close forever. They had been through more than anyone.

Maybe the words of his wife got to him, because when Henry and Owain walked into the castle he asked the maid to summon Lissa, not Chrom. Owain's heart skipped a beat or two. He knew she was alive simply because Henry had said as much, but actually being with her again? It had Owain nervous. She had died when he was still young. Now he was a grown man, would he really be the man she had wanted him to be? Doubtful. She had always humored his sense of drama, but she had likely wanted him to grow into an honest and peaceful person... and he had told his fair share of lies and fought in his fair share of wars.

He was alone in a room he hardly remembered. It was used for meeting with members of council, but he had never been allowed in. He was just a child before they all died, and he was hardly going to sit in a meeting and talk about war after. He was more inclined to just fight.

The door slammed open and a woman shrieked. Owain turned and once more grabbed for his hip—honestly he needed a sword at the ready for moments like this. He looked to the door and standing in it was just the woman he wanted to see. She looked so much more mature now than she had in the past. She was still the same beautiful spirit though, her shape didn't matter an ounce. “ _Owain!_ ” She gasped.

“Yes, it is I, Owain Dark, Hero of—oh.” She hugged him. He meant to tell her how incredible he was. He forgot the words in a moment. It was no wonder Olivia had that effect on Inigo. Her embrace was gentle but also firm. It was like she would never let him go again, but he didn't want her to. He rested his cheek on top of her head and wrapped his arms around her as well. He took in the smell of her perfume and the way she felt warm. He never wanted that moment to end. His eyes were glazed somewhat by tears when he opened them again, and glanced at the door. He thought he was going to see Henry, but the man standing there wasn't Henry at all.

“Dad...”

He took cautious steps, like maybe he thought Owain would vanish if he did something wrong. Owain had no desire to leave ever again. He didn't know what he had been expecting when Lon'qu joined them, but he was so relieved to feel him wrap around them, joining their hug and not forcing him to give up one or the other. For a moment the images that haunted him of their deaths melted away. He wasn't afraid that an enemy would sneak in and shoot them down. He was safe, because his parents were here He felt like a child again.

He loved it.

“Waah, I missed you so much!” Lissa whimpered. “Why didn't you come back sooner? Where were you? I worried!” Owain felt badly that he was crying into her hair. He couldn't really help it. Maybe this is what he wanted from Lissa in the past. Maybe he wanted his reunion with his mother to be heartfelt, instead of an introduction of a stranger.

“I'm glad you're safe.” Lon'qu added to Lissa's rant. When they separated she still held firmly to his hand. She didn't want to let him go, that was what he initially thought. But then he noticed her eyes drifting down to the brand on his arm. He cleared his throat. She blinked and looked back into his eyes.

Chrom arrived.

He hadn't expected to get such a warm embrace from Chrom. It was arguably just as strong as Lissa's, but instead of leaving him feeling comfort it just left Owain concerned. “Uncle Chrom, I...” He began to ask, but he let it fall silent in his throat. Chrom was looking at his arm.

He had sort of had enough. All his life he had been proud to have that brand on his arm, but now he felt conscious of it, and almost shy about it. He folded his arms so it was no longer visible, and looked between the other three warily. “Why are you all so obsessed with my brand?” It was becoming alarming. He wanted to act like his normal, boisterous self, but he couldn't. He was nervous, for lack of a better word. Something was wrong.

The three of them looked between each other. Lissa stepped forward and took his hand again, and Owain looked at her. He searched her. Anything that might let him know what was happening, anything at all... But she didn't say. Lon'qu stayed where he was, let his arms stay folded over his chest, and that wasn't very different than any other time of day. It wasn't that standoffish. Not to Owain. He was used to it.

Chrom didn't have his arms crossed. They were at his side, and it was sort of reassuring. He didn't look like he was going to deliver bad news. He looked like he was going to tell him everything. Frankly though, nothing would have ever prepared Owain for what 'everything' was.

“Owain... You are the Exalt.”

He could have heard a pin drop. Owain was sure his heart hadn't bothered to even continue beating. It was so quiet in his chest. He tried to make a face that was halfway similar to a smile, a look of mock amusement, like they were playing a prank. He couldn't summon it. There wasn't a facade strong enough for Owain to cover his unease. “W-What? Why me—What about Lucy or Morgan?”

Yes, what about them? They were both perfectly suited to the task. Lucina was a hero who saved her world and the next, and Morgan was brilliant. They were Chrom's children! Shouldn't they take the position instead? Of course the moment their names came out of his mouth, Owain thought he'd committed a crime.

He had never seen Chrom's face quite so sorrowful. It was like the moment when Grima fell, when Robin's life was on the line, except... Worse. He looked both composed but also like he might crumble at any moment. He was distracted by it when Lissa took his other hand, pulling him to look at her instead.

“Owain, they're not...” she tried, but she began to cry. Owain's heart was pounding. He looked back at Chrom, whose hands were clenched in fists, and then to his father.

“ _What happened_?”

“They were murdered.” Lon'qu answered. Leave it to him to be to the point about it. He looked like he was going to say more, but Chrom cleared his throat and took over.

Owain watched with caution and concern while Chrom swallowed a knot in his throat. His voice almost croaked. He was trying so hard to be strong. Didn't he know he was with his family? There was no reason to pretend he was strong all the time. Everyone cried now and then.

“Libra began having visions. He claimed that Naga was warning him that Robin, Lucina, and Morgan still carried the Fell Blood...and that so long as they did, there would always be a chance for Grima to return to power. Again.”

Again.

It echoed in Owain's mind. It reminded him that he had no idea what was going on. What world were they in, really? He meant to ask, but he couldn't have even if he wanted to interrupt. His mouth was dry and his tongue was heavy, and he could say nothing at all in that moment.

“Libra organized a group. Tharja, Gerome, and Noire took his side. They killed....all of them. I couldn't... I couldn't save them.”

Owain could pity him. He had always been told there was nothing as painful as watching your own child die. He wouldn't know—he had no children. But he had seen his parents die, and he imagined the pain was at least similar. He could pity him... but that didn't ease his nerves any. This must have been the news Olivia hadn't wanted to share with them.

“No, I... I can't. I'm not... I don't think I'm Exalt material.” Chrom actually chuckled at Owain's comment, but Owain hadn't been farther from making a joke in his life. “No, really, I...”

“There are no other options, Owain.” Chrom admitted. “We need you. Ylisse needs you. I've led my people long enough, and I haven't been the ruler we need. They need a symbol of peace.”

“What makes you think I can be that?” Owain argued. A symbol of peace? Had they met him? He was better suited to be a symbol of theatrics. They expected him to be the Exalt! He hadn't even expected them to be alive! This was a lot to take in. “I'm not Aunt Emmeryn, I can't live up to that. You have no idea what I've been through, I...” He stopped when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. He swore under that grip his heart slowed a little bit, but not enough to make him calm.

“Take some time to think about it.” Lon'qu murmured. “You're a grown man now. No one can force you to do anything.”

Owain tried to take comfort in his father's words, he really did. How could he, though? Those words made everything twice as complicated. Those words meant that the decision to set a new foundation and save the Halidom was in his hands. He choked on the complaints he had been making and shook his head. “I need air.” He decided abruptly. He made to leave, but the familiar squeak in his mother's voice made him stop.

Familiar? It felt like ages since he'd heard it, even in the past fighting Grima. A noise she made on accident when she opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it and changed her mind. He hesitated. If he left now he wouldn't have to know what she was thinking about. He wouldn't have to heed what she had to say...

But he loved her. It had been so long, and she looked so beautiful, and this was his real mother. This wasn't a dream. He didn't have to turn to face her anyway, his hesitation said it all. Lon'qu did the same thing—waited in stiff silence for whatever it was she had to say. She recognized the gesture and spoke up.

“Owain, sweetheart....” She began, and without looking at her he knew she was wringing her hands together nervously. “After the assassination... well I just don't think you should go just anywhere to get some air. Until we organize security measures and determine who your retainers will be... well I'm just scared that if you were seen by the wrong person...”

“I'll stay on the castle grounds.”

His answer provided comfort to Lissa, but also to Chrom. Owain hardly cared about that. He just wanted to escape. He pushed himself outside of the room and for a second he rested against the closed door. He felt like he'd just run a marathon. A glance upwards caused him to notice a maid with a concerned look on her face. She reminded him of Felicia. It was almost comforting—but he didn't stick around to engage her in conversation. He ran down the hall.

He grew up here. He knew his way around this maze of a castle better than anyone. He knew where the secret rooms were and where the hidden passages led to. He didn't bother with any of those now. He just made for the fastest rout he could take to get himself to the courtyard.

It was beautiful. He hated it. He hated that it was beautiful and peaceful and serene in a time when he was frantic and scared. He didn't bother with taking in the sights. He knew where he was going. On swift legs he made his way to the center of the gardens, and to the giant hedge maze located there. As a child he had memorized two different ways to get to the center, and also the location of a bush that was easy to crawl through to get to a hidden alcove. As an adult he doubted he would be able to fit through that small space to get to that alcove, but it didn't matter. The tall hedges were overwhelming with the smell of roses. White roses, they always had been. He was pretty sure they were meant to represent the purity of the Halidom. If it could still be considered pure. Or could it? Had this place never truly faced war? Perhaps it was just Owain who lacked purity and innocence.

How could this happen? How could they have meant to go home, and instead wandered head long into this place? Was this really home? What had _happened_? Everything was the same, it was as if Grima never happened. But it must have—for people to call for the assassination of anyone with Fell Blood. How could they be gone? Lucina and Morgan had been by Owain's side since the day he was born. They were his comrades in arms! They were heroes, and so strong... and it seemed impossible to think that they were just... gone.

He had never even seen Morgan in adulthood. Just as a sort of goofy teenager. Had he matured to be more like his parents? Owain would never know. He would never know if Lucina would be the perfect balance of beauty, peace, and strength as Exalt.

The thought of the Exalt caused Owain to grimace. Or maybe it was because he had leaned his back onto the hedges, and a thorn pricked him. He sucked in a deep breath, gulping it in like it could fix everything and flush out his problems. It didn't.

“I wish we had gone back to the other time.” He muttered to himself. Maybe then... maybe this wouldn't be happening. Or would it just have prolonged it? He supposed that the Owain that was born there, that lived there... he would be the one to take up the role of Exalt. He would never face the war, he could be a symbol of peace. “...But I'm not him.” Owain whispered to himself. He had seen war. He had seen death. He had seen innocent lives go to waste for no reason at all, and he knew peace was not always the answer.

Or was it? To imagine a world where everyone acted on peace was incredible. But how could he be thrust into this position? How could it be Owain Dark—goofball of ages? Could any of his friends or family take him seriously for this position? He wasn't convinced even he could take _himself_ seriously.

Then again... Izana was more of a goofball than anyone Owain had ever met, and Izumo was revered as a kingdom of peace and tranquility. Just the sight of it was relaxing, and the memory just the same. He still didn't like this. He didn't like having to decide. He didn't like the idea that a whole kingdom could be relying on _him_ to bring peace back, after the loss of the royal family almost as a whole.

There was no choice, honestly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i think owain will look good in a tiara but maybe that's just me. You made it to the bottom so thank you for reading my garbage I'll try to update it.


	4. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain asks literally everyone for advice and literally everyone has an opinion. Also Cynthia is a pal and Inigo gets on one knee.

The gardens almost felt like freedom. They were vast and dense, and they gave the false impression that one was outdoors entirely. The only limitation to that were the gray stone walls that towered above even the highest plants and hedges. Those walls troubled Owain the most, because they formed a jail cell around him.

It wasn't as if he had been planning to come home to this. He expected ruin and a bleak future. He supposed he should be grateful that his parents were alive. He was! He just hadn't expected to be a ruler. Even in his wildest dreams he never had that responsibility. He had never been this anxious about change in his whole life, but this? This made those towering walls seem like they would keep him trapped forever.

He'd felt that way all morning, and he couldn't shake it. He felt nauseous thinking about the choices he had laid out before him. Be the Exalt? He would fail. They would lay all their hopes on him to be Emmeryn and then they would realize he was just a jester. Or he could refuse the throne. Then he would get his way, but everyone would be disappointed in him. The country would be at a loss for an heir. The Halidom would be full of conflict instead of peace.

Owain was seated on one of the smaller fountains in the garden. He had his arms on his knees and his head in his hands and a look on his face to match the twisting and gnawing feeling that was swirling around his whole body. Inigo and Severa had only just arrived a short while ago, and while Owain initially thought their advice may make him feel better... well he wasn't convinced yet.

“It may not be so different.” Inigo had offered. He was pacing—which wasn't making Owain any less anxious—but he was pacing calmly at least. He had his hands loosely on his hips and while he wasn't pacing a straight line, he was clearly walking the same path over and over.

“How is this 'not so different'?” Owain argued, doing his best to look away from the pacing form. He looked at Severa. She was standing with her arms crossed tight, a scowl on her face, and her hips canted. Looking at her was not much more relaxing, to say the least.

Inigo's encouraging smile faltered into a tiny frown. For just a moment, Owain could see that he was deeply concerned. Worry was written on his face. But as he always did, Inigo smiled in the face of trouble, and he brought a smile back to his lips. Owain was sure this one was less real than the last. Was it difficult to smile like that? Even when he was unhappy? Owain had never bothered to smile through pain. He would much rather embrace it. “Well I suppose,” Inigo started, and for a second Owain came out of his thoughts of fake smiles to wait for his answer. Unfortunately for both of them, Inigo had nothing. “Er....”

“This isn't what I expected to come home to.” He admitted. He released a deep sigh but if anything the visible tension in his shoulders just got worse. He hated to feel this way. He was so happy to be with his family, but being a caged bird... well he didn't expect that he would excel at that. Especially not when he was such a dramatic bird.

“Please!” Severa hissed. “You're living in a cushy castle with your parents. What's so horrible?” Severa and Inigo hadn't mentioned anything about Lucina or Morgan when they first arrived. That said, they weren't very surprised when Owain gave them the news that he was asked to take the role of Exalt. They had undoubtedly gotten the story from their own parents the night before, just as Owain had. Severa was clearly not feeling all that compassionate about it... but she was a generally compassionate person. Just... only if she saw a good reason for it. Right now she must have thought he was just whining—but he continued to whine anyway.

“Staying with my parents in a castle isn't the bad part. The bad part is being the _Exalt_.” He answered. He pushed both of his hands through his hair and tugged gently on it, actually trying to inflict mild pain as a distraction from how horrible he felt. It was a terrible feeling. Helplessness, anxiety, fear, pride, and shame to say the least. “A life of endless responsibilities piled higher than the stars. That sort of life would weigh on even the mightiest of heroes.”

Inigo stopped pacing. Owain noticed it a moment before that, but he truly absorbed into his mind when the mercenary took a seat on the fountain beside him instead. He put an arm behind Owain and gripped his opposite shoulder, and honestly was that supposed to comfort him? A squeeze on his arm? “I'm sure Chrom will guide you in how to go about your new responsibilities.” He offered, and honestly it sounded to Owain like Inigo truly believed that. “Granted, you and I both know that you will face paperwork and negotiations, but... you know, you _will_ have free time as well.” Inigo stopped gripping his shoulder and instead trailed his fingertips down Owain's back. It felt nice—and he hated to admit that the squeezing had been more comforting than he'd expected. It was somewhat grounding. He did not agree with Inigo's final comment, though. “This isn't a jail sentence.”

“It may as well be!” He argued. Owain stood up and gestured to the walls that surrounded them,turning in a small circle for effect. “This is as free as I can be! They won't let me leave here, didn't you hear?”

“Wait... what?” Inigo paused his efforts to console Owain and once more concern was written on his face. Followed shortly by confusion. “You're trapped in the garden..?”

“He's trapped in the castle.” Severa corrected. “Idiot. Listen Owain, you're here with good reason. The other heirs to this throne were all killed. If you go out without guards and someone decides they don't think you're suited for the job—well you could be killed too.”

“I know that.” Owain murmured. He knew why he was trapped here. He knew why he felt claustrophobic all of the sudden. He just didn't _like it_. He had been stripped of his freedom, and his weapons, and soon enough they were going to dress him to their standards, too. His mother had already measured him for new clothes. He just hoped that their definition of 'more noble' wouldn't be too similar to what Chrom wore.

He just felt powerless. “Everything is happening so fast. I can't control any of it—it's like watching from a distance while other people control who I am and what I'm meant to be.”

Inigo on the other hand seemed to be lost in thought. Maybe he'd had a bad night, or stayed up later than usual dancing. He just wasn't keeping up with the conversation as well as usual. Or he was dwelling on it, if not. When he noticed Owain looking at him he cleared his throat. “You need to be protected. I see. So I suppose they don't expect for you to carry a weapon?”

“Not as a 'symbol of peace'. My sword hand is _enraged_!” Owain scoffed at his own words. “A symbol of peace. Me! I don't think...” He turned from them and focused his attention on the way the water cascaded down stone figure in the fountain. “It may not be a title truly befitted to me. How can anyone expect _me_ to be _that?”_

“Gods! Stop whining!” Severa groaned. “What exactly do you think you're a symbol of, huh? War? You're not _that_ either, you know.” Her tone of voice sounded like a mother scolding a child, and frankly Owain felt somewhat like a child too. Was he being too childish? He wondered if he had the wrong attitude. Maybe he was wrong, and maybe he should be more open minded? Although he imagined she would be less optimistic if _she_ was the one locked in a castle.

“It's just that...”

“Truly, Owain.” Inigo cut in, though in a much softer tone than Severa's. “You may not see it now, but you could be one of the greatest symbols of peace among us.” Owain honestly wondered if Inigo was crazy. The day before he had recklessly run ahead of them into what could have been danger, and now he was suggesting that Owain might be suited for this position. But for the sake of argument he didn't interrupt, he just turned his attention to his friend. Inigo was so calm. He got that trait from his mother—a sort of beauty that was so precious it inspired content within other people. Maybe he should have been the Exalt. He still had a smile on his face, but it was just so much more serene now that Owain wondered if it was real. Even with his arms crossed like Severa, it didn't come off as offensive or harsh. “You have seen more chaos in your life than any Exalt ever has. With that vast of experience, maybe you truly can embody peace, and prevent future disturbances?”

Inigo lowered his arms and walked close enough to rest a hand on Owain's shoulder. “I've known you my whole life, and I would place my life in your hands without a second's hesitation. I would bow to you, as Exalt.”

It was heartwarming. It was unexpected, and even had a pink hue threatening Owain's cheeks. Even less expected was the way Severa nodded her head in agreement. “I mean if someone has to make sure we never have to fight a war again, it may as well be one of us. Besides, you won't be trapped here _forever_. This is just temporary until they figure everything out. My mom said they were already looking into candidates to be tasked as your personal guards.”

Owain lifted his hand and clasped it over Inigo's, effectively trapping his hand on his shoulder and causing some amount of confusion for the mercenary before Owain began to speak. “I...I am _truly humbled_ by your fine words. Both of you!” The tone in Owain's voice was familiar and almost playful after this much time. It had Severa scowling at his antics and Inigo flashing him a bright smile. “It is by your encouragement that I may task myself with this endeavor. It is by your hands that I am lifted, and that I will guide myself and our people to prosperity.”

“Atta-boy!” Inigo cheered from his side. Owain let go of his hand, and he gave his shoulder a final squeeze before he lowered it. “Although I suppose this doesn't change your current 'trapped' status.” He lifted his thumb to his lips where he chewed his nail momentarily. It was a solution that he couldn't truly solve. Yet. Owain recognized a glimmer of mischief in Inigo's eyes—the sort of glimmer he got before he bounded off to put his nose into other peoples' business. “None the less... Severa is right. You will be allowed outside the castle walls in no time at all, I assure you.”

…

“I know this is a lot to take in..” Chrom spoke in a tone that was calmer than the previous evening. Owain wondered if he was trying to show more compassion, to be more gentle. It would have been better to be empathetic the night before. Now it was like smoothing salve on a wound that had already scabbed. It did little good. Earlier that morning he had been in a frenzy, and unsure. Now a sense of calmness washed over Owain, because he was fairly certain he knew what he would do.

“Mine eyes have seen fantastical things as commonplace, and the touch of a mother's hand as miraculous.” He murmured back. Chrom looked like it took him a second to process the words, but then he seemed concerned. Perhaps because Owain was not as bright as his normal self?

“I'm not sure what you mean.” Chrom admitted.

“Er—I mean that I've seen some pretty remarkable things. This isn't harder to believe than any of that. It just isn't what I wanted.” Owain shifted uncomfortably in his seat once or twice, but he eventually gave up on the chair and stood up to wander around Chrom's study. It was a good distraction.

“If you tell me your concerns perhaps I can lay them to rest.” Chrom tried, and despite Owain wandering around he remained seated at his desk. “I know you never expected this role, Owain. No one would have guessed this would happen.”

Owain had almost reached out for a book when his eyes drifted to the next shelf, and he noticed a strategy book. It was one that Morgan had read over and over, and Owain recognized the worn spine. He shook his head slowly. “I'm sorry, Chrom. This must not be easy for you either.”

Owain heard the sound of the chair scooting out from under Chrom. He turned to face his uncle, expecting firm eye contact and a serious expression. What he got was a tight embrace. It was odd to Owain, still, to be hugged so close by Chrom. This was affection that he normally reserved for his own children. Perhaps that had changed, when the timeline was altered. Owain lifted up his arms and returned the embrace, and Chrom stepped back out of it.

“My children are dead, Owain.” The blunette spoke quietly, but smoothly. Owain sensed no trace of shake or tears in his voice. He simply stated an unfortunate fact. “I loved them so much, but I also spent their whole lives preparing them for leadership. They were coached in how to act, and what to say. I wonder... if I should have spent more time trying to coach you, too.”

“I...”

“I will not set you up to fail, Owain.” Chrom promised. His voice was stronger now. Confident. Contagiously, so, because Owain believed every word that came out of his mouth. “I will stand behind you and guide you. So will Lissa. You can do this, because your family will support you. And.... I promise you, on the memory of my family, I will keep you safe.”

 

…

 

“I forgot to take a measurement for your head.”

Owain looked at his mother with a concerned expression when she said it. “You don't expect me to wear a halo or something, do you?”

Lissa took a few steps closer to her son, and she stood on her toes to take the measurement around the crown of his head. There was only a minor amount of squirming involved, which must have impressed her. “Believe me I thought about it! It does have a sort of 'pure' effect on people. But your father talked us out of it, and we decided you would better wear a circlet instead.”

Owain cast a glance in his father's direction. Lon'qu was looking over a bookcase, but didn't seem to be taking anything off of it. He waited until his father's eyes met his and then Owain mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He had worn a circlet before, in Nohr, and it wasn't too troublesome. A halo, however, sounded like a hassle. He was quiet a few moments longer, before he pushed his hand through his hair. “Mom..? Do you honestly think I'm capable of this?”

Lissa sucked in a breath so fast that Owain could hear it. He didn't imagine that was a good sign, but he watched her set aside her note she'd made about his measurement. “Come sit with me.” She asked with an extended hand. He took the few steps to meet her, and she took his hand in hers and guided him to cushioned bench. Only once she was seated did she answer him more fully. “I know you can do this because you have the blood of the Exalt coursing through you.. You've always been so proud to have that brand—and I'm so happy you do. It means so much to me. But... I do miss you.”

“I—er--I'm right here, mom.”

Lissa shook her head. “No, no. I miss _you_. I know you've grown up, but I won't believe that you've entirely outgrown your entire personality. Where is your confidence now? Where is that silly way of talking that I like so much? Where is Owain _Dark_?”

It effectively silenced Owain. He hadn't been feeling like himself since he'd met up with his parents, that was true. He didn't really see why it was such a crime to act a little upset when he was, but he appreciated the concern, he supposed. She surely could see how having leadership thrust upon him was a little bit... alarming. “I've been a little down. I need to blow off steam, and I can't figure out how. I can't shake feeling like I'm not the right choice. There's just so much I don't know, and I can't... clear my head.”

“Go out and spar with someone.” Lon'qu suggested. He said it fast and before Lissa could suggest something else, and Owain wondered if that was because he know how crazy it sounded.

“Symbol of peace, remember? How am I supposed to explain that to anyone who catches me sparring?”

Yet in spite of Owain's theory that Lissa would disagree, she said “I think he has a point.” She sighed and pushed her blonde bangs back. Owain watched her, waiting for her explanation. “If you spar in the courtyard no one will see you anyway... and if you get hurt you know I will be nearby to heal you.”

“We'll have guards watch the door. What they won't know won't hurt them.” Lon'qu finished. Owain studied his parents both. He actually really liked that idea... and he may have taken that last phrase close to heart, for future reference.

 

…

 

“Owain!”

The voice was loud and cheerful and familiar, and Owain had just left his parents room when he heard it. He turned just in time to see her before she threw her arms around him. It took him a handful of seconds to fully recognize her with her hair down instead of pulled back into pigtails, but that grin could belong to no one else but “Cynthia!”

He could have kissed her—but of course he wouldn't because that would be really weird. But it was incredible to see one of the others—was this really the same girl?--and she looked so grown up! Was this how everyone else felt when they looked upon Owain, and Inigo, and Severa? He supposed he had been with them as they aged five years, and it wasn't as startling to see the changes as a result. Cynthia looked an awful lot like her mother—but her chestnut hair made it easy to tell them apart, if not her radiant expressions and personality.

Cynthia took a few slow steps back from Owain and looked him over, and as she tilted her head to one side he mocked her by doing the same. “I heard from my mom that you're having trouble deciding if you want to be our new ruler. What gives? It's not like that's a life shattering decision or something.” She put her hands on his shoulders and twisted until he was facing the opposite direction. Then she pushed him until he started to walk. “March! I want to hang out! We should go walk through the hedge maze—we haven't done that in years!”

Owain snorted and looked over his shoulder at her. “Are you quite certain that you have the might to move a mountain so strong as Odin Da-ark?” He faltered over the last part when he realized he slipped up.

Not surprisingly, Cynthia tilted her eyes up to him suspiciously and asked, “Did you just mess up your own name? Wait—save it for the maze. I want to hear all about it.”

Owain swallowed a comment and just nodded. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to talk about Nohr. He saw no reason not to really, but... well in all honestly he probably needed Severa's permission. She was the one who always panicked when they did or said anything related to Ylisse while they were there, after all. She'd ingrained a fear into their hearts that she would beat them to ruin if they squealed, and honestly it resonated even still.

The guards let them into the garden without complaint and while they approached the maze he could see Cynthia looking off in another direction. He followed her gaze to something he hadn't noticed before: a memorial. It was very new, and he could guess who it was for. He had asked Lissa about it and got little more information about the attack than he already knew. One thing he did learn was that Morgan and Cynthia had gotten engaged the previous evening. He didn't like the saddened look on her face, so he didn't ask her for her feelings about the matter. Instead they walked into the maze and Cynthia took the lead.

“Don't tell me which way to go.” Cynthia ordered, and Owain dipped his head to one side until she explained “I haven't gone through this maze in a really long time! I want to figure it out for myself. I know you have it memorized—you always did.” She put her hands behind her back casually while she walked, and she opened her mouth to talk. “We all thought you guys died, you know.”

“So I gathered from my parents.” Owain nodded his head. She took a right—but then nearly walked into him as she changed her mind and made a sharp left. He chuckled at her. “Are you... This may sound like a dumb question, but are you...?”

“Me?” She asked, filling in the rest of his sentence. “I think so. All of us here, we're the group who left a world of death behind to stop Grima from destroying another world. Then one day you and Severa and Inigo just vanished. We sort of assumed you went out on a job but you never came back. Naga started talking through Tiki, and she told us that we could all go home safely now, because of how things played out. By using herself as a sacrifice against Grima—I mean Robin actually stopped Grima from ever happening.”

Owain listened in silence but continued to follow Cynthia on her slow trek through the maze. It was a good sized maze, it could get you lost for hours if you didn't know the way. Maybe that was what was so relaxing about it for Owain. He felt like it was a different place from the rest of the gardens. It was secretive. No one could see you, and there were no guards stationed _inside_ the maze. As a child it had also made for good fun playing tag. “So you all came back to the future and found this place?”

“Right. So we came back to the future and since Grima never happened it was like the world never ended. Our parents never died, everyone was fine. We just sort of woke up in our own beds one day and our parents were fine. Everyone was fine. It was... weird.” She rubbed her arms while she spoke and Owain noticed she had goosebumps forming on her. “They didn't remember dying. They didn't really remember a lot of things—and some of our memories of training alongside our parents became invalid. They don't have them. But they do remember us. They remember our absence while we were in the past, but they also remember us _from_ the past. Like they remember meeting us way back before we were born. It's sort of neat. It was hard at first to deal with it, though. Everyone reacted a little bit differently, but.. well most of us were just happy that our parents were alive. The memories we lost—the lives we didn't get to live—that didn't really matter.”

Owain was stunned, to say the least. This was really their future? It was their future the way it should have been—with no destruction at all. He hardly had time to process it before Cynthia asked “So... Odin?”

“Ha! Yes—Odin. That slipped out, didn't it?” He shook his head. “My name isn't Odin.”

“Where _were you_ for all these years? What happened to you three?” Cynthia asked. Her attention was on him now, and as a result she was a little clumsier on her walk through the maze, but she still managed to keep her footing.

“A god from another world took us there.” He tried.”It's really a long story—and epic of ages!--but I couldn't possibly give you every detail in one sitting—probably not even in one year! In a very small nutshell, however... We went to help save another world from _another_ evil, and lived to tell the tale. While we were there we took on aliases. Among... other things. My name was Odin.”

“What?! You actually got to _be_ a mysterious hero? No fair!” Cynthia whined. “Where was the sign up sheet? I would have gone!” But the words clearly weren't as amusing to Owain, because he didn't even crack a real smile. She sighed. “While we came here and lived happy lives, you three had to face another war, didn't you? That's... scary.” She admitted.”I want to hear everything, but not just yet, I think. You should get settled here, now. You're not going to run away back to that other place, right?”

Owain shook his head no. “A hero abandon his home? Impossible! I would never leave this world to suffer. Besides... I couldn't go back if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?”

“You're going the wrong way.” Owain murmured, and Cynthia spun on her heel and wagged her finger in front of his face. Anger flashed in her eyes, likely because he was giving her directions after promising not to. It was sort of amusing though, and it lightened Owain's mood somewhat.

“Don't you tell me how to get through this! I can do it!”

Owain laughed at her outburst. “It is only in my good nature to spare you from going the _wrong way_!”

Cynthia shook her head at him and continued to go the same direction she was. Owain knew it was the wrong direction, he'd walked this maze about a thousand times in his life. But she persisted, and he supposed that was something worth giving her credit for. “I don't want to go back.” He answered her. “But I just don't think I'm going to be the Exalt they're expecting. I don't think I'll do it right—this is likely all a big mistake.”

Cynthia didn't say anything reassuring on the subject, and that was just fine with Owain. They continued their journey through the hedges in silence for a few minutes, before it grew so awkward that he decided to openly ask her for her opinion of what he should do. It was just as he was opening his mouth to ask that he saw something entirely unexpected up ahead of them: the center of the maze. “Is that the fountain?”

Cynthia nearly bubbled over with excitement. “Yessss!” She giggled and ran forward With one swift motion she jumped onto the side of the fountain and stood triumphantly before Owain. “I, Cynthia, maze-navigator extraordinaire, have conquered this labyrinth!”

“That doesn't—I thought there were only two ways to get through!”

Cynthia extended her hand and Owain hesitantly took it, allowing her to pull him up onto the fountain with him. It was clear she had something to say, but in good taste she decided to be somewhat theatrical about it. Honestly it was nice not to be the only person like that, now and then. “Owain? You're a pretty smart guy. I mean honestly you're pretty cool. And you must have been through a lot when you left. But you're really wrong about this whole Exalt business.”

Owain shook his head. “No—I'm not. People keep saying that they believe in me, but I just don't think I'm the right choice, I can't live up to that.” He halted when she started waving her hand in front of his face in a frenzy.

“Shh! Listen! I'm being majestic here! I don't interrupt _your_ monologues.” Cynthia whined. “Listen, you think there are only two ways. Either you're the Exalt and a disappointment,” She weighed her hands in front of her while she spoke. “Or you're not the Exalt and an even greater disappointment. Right? But...” She turned away from him and began patrolling the edge of the fountain, careful not to slip and fall in. “Just like this maze, sometimes there are more ways to do something than you might think. Even if you're _really sure_ there are only two ways... there might be three. Maybe you can be the Exalt... and set your own standards. What makes you think you should conform to be Emmeryn, when you could be the Exalted Owain Dark—Peacemaker of Ages and Lord of Infinite Laughter?”

Owain was silent in response. He took her in, but didn't say anything right away, and that must have bothered her because she waved her arms. “Um, hello? What do you say?”

“Wow.” Owain answered. “That was an admirable speech—I'm disappointed I didn't come up with it myself. You found a new way through the maze and everything—I'm impressed! Maybe you should be the Exalt!”

“Not a chance!” Cynthia laughed. “I'm still working on being a great pegasus knight! But maybe this means _you_ could be the Exalt?”

 

…

 

“I just heard the news!” Inigo said when he approached Owain only a few hours later. He raised his hand and gently punched Owain's shoulder. It was a sweet relief from when Severa _actually_ punched him. “Owain the Exalt,. What made you change your mind?”

“What sort of hero would I be if I turned my back on my own country, my own people? I, born with the blood of the exalt, will be the stuff of legends!” Owain flashed Inigo a smile, and the mercenary brightened up considerably since that morning. In fact, it seemed like all of the concerns that had been evident on Inigo that morning must have been quelled, based on his tone.

“Don't get too big headed, you might burst.” Inigo warned. “Your mother told me a sparring match with Cynthia is what really changed your mind.”

“Oh—actually we didn't spar. We just talked. Although now that you mention it, I wish I had someone to face me in battle! It may quell the ache in my sword hand—the boiling in my blood—the—!”

“Catch.” Inigo said, and he tossed a practice sword in Owain's direction He caught it by the hilt,and then swung it in front of himself a few times to try it out. It had been quite a while since he'd held something so light as a training blade.

“How dare you throw this delicate blade without so much as a second thought? This sword bears the marks of hundreds of training battles and sparring matches. This blade deserves more respect—to be announced!”

“A name, perhaps?” Inigo joked, but Owain was ever serious.

“That as well!”

Inigo raised his sword and used it to point at his friend, his smile unwavering. “Well since you didn't get to spar before, care to go a round? Try to keep up. I won't go easy on you.”

It had been a while since Owain had genuinely fought with a sword. It was something ingrained in his spirit, however. He would never truly forget how, even if he would have to work to hone his skills again after giving up sword play to work magic for so long in Nohr. True to his word Inigo came at him fast and hard, leaving no room for error on Owain's part. Owain couldn't have appreciated it more.

Each successful counter and dodge he made gave Owain a sense of confidence and power, both things he had been in short supply of since the previous evening. His voice rose and fell with laughs of triumph when he was successful, but as it turned out... well he was getting less and less successful as time went on. In fact...

Owain could barely think straight with how out of breath he was. This was strange. He'd sparred with Inigo a hundred times over the years and never had it seemed so serious. Usually there was more playful jabbing than actual swordplay—but Inigo had a look on his face that could strike down a god. He was so serious, so focused—and it was no wonder Owain was beginning to lag in his defenses against the strikes. It wasn't even about offense anymore—he was just trying to dodge the onslaught lest he actually _need_ Lissa to heal him.

He needed to get a counter attack in, and so he stepped back with his right foot to dodge and immediately followed through with his blade, in an effort to put some distance between himself and Inigo. What actually happened was unexpected. Inigo seemed to predict his move before he made it, because he sidestepped and brought the handle of his sword down hard on Owain's hand. Reflex caused it to open, and his blade clattered to the ground. A good kick to his chest later and Owain was on the ground as well, unsure what had even just happened. “Did—What?”

“Ha! You've no weapon to fight and nowhere to go, am I to claim victory?” Inigo mocked Owain's way of talking, despite panting his way through the sentence. Owain was glad he wasn't the only one drained and out of breath at least. This wasn't his most proud moment.

“I surrender! You are the champion—this time. We may meet in combat again, my friend, and should that day come the outcome will be far different.” It was with another hearty laugh that Inigo stepped forward and extended his hand to him, and Owain took it thankfully. With a good hoist he was back on his feet, and not a second later Inigo tossed his sword on the ground with a clatter. “Horrible! Dishonorable! That weapon brought you victory, you can't just toss it aside! It deserves better, it...Wh-what are you doing?”

Owain hesitated in his original lecture when he noticed the stance Inigo was taking. He had an arm crossed behind his back, and the other in front of his waist. Owain's stomach knotted when his friend—his best friend—leaned forward and took a deep bow. “I-Inigo? Wh-why are you bowing to me? You just defeated me, I should be kneeling before you in defeat.”

“Why yes, but you are the Exalt. I would never expect you to bow.”

Owain's heart sank into his stomach. He could hear a sense of lightheartedness in Inigo's tone, but it still troubled him deeply to see this. He hated it, actually. Inigo shouldn't be bowing. He'd never bowed before—Owain had been a prince his whole life and he took comfort in the fact that Inigo never acknowledged it. “Ah... Please don't say that. Get up—don't bow.”

It was somewhat comforting to make eye contact with Inigo, but the moment it happened the mercenary winked playfully at Owain. “Before I get up I have something of a request.”

Owain clenched his fists nervously at his sides while Inigo not only didn't stand, but actually knelt on one knee in front of him—like he were speaking to someone truly important like Xander or Ryoma or even Chrom. “Inigo! Unless you're proposing marriage I doubt you need to be on your knees!”

Inigo couldn't help the short laugh and the tiny blush that came with that comment. Owain honestly would have enjoyed that the comment put a smile on his companion's face, if not for the fact that he felt so awful in that moment. It was physically sickening to see Inigo treating him like he was _more important_. They'd been through far too much together for titles to affect them. “I believe,” Inigo began, and Owain struggled to hear him over how wildly his mind was racing. “That I have fairly defeated you in battle, and proven my strength to you. As such I request that you might allow me to dedicate my life to ensuring that no one defeats you ever again.”

It took an extra handful of seconds for Owain to truly grasp what Inigo said. Part of him entertained the idea that it almost did sound like a proposal. Of course it wasn't. It was something that caused Owain's words to come out as something of a scoff of disbelief. “Wait...What are you..? Are you asking to be my _retainer_?”

“I will swear to guard Milord the Exalt with my life.” He said it in that tone he used to flirt with women, a tone that Owain was actually quite familiar with, and he also offered a cheesy grin to him... but Owain just paled.

Owain crouched down in front of Inigo until they were at eye level. He sat on his heels and made sure that Inigo could see this was serious business. “If you ever call me 'milord' again I will send your soul into the darkest depths of despair, and your body shortly after. You are my _best friend._ I wouldn't _want_ you to lay down your life for me, Inigo, Exalt or not..”

Owain could see a swell of concern on Inigo's face,and he was glad that at least meant that he was starting to see how serious this was to the prince. “You won't accept?”

It was with a deep sigh that Owain considered the option before him, now that he'd made himself clear about his title. “Aren't you sick of being a retainer by now?”

Inigo let out a short laugh, and shook his head quick enough that he had to reach up and straighten his bangs afterwards. “You are very different than Lord Xander, Owain. Besides, Ylisse is at peace! I would put my life on the line for you, but I see very little chance of a new war in our lifetimes. We have seen enough.”

“A retainer is just another sort of servant, Inigo. Are you really sure about this?”

“Well I wouldn't get down on one knee for just anyone.”

Owain snorted at the comment. Would he? He wondered how many women Inigo had knelt before in an effort to woo them. He should have been enjoying the sight, or secretly admiring the way Inigo looked with his heart on the line. He smiled none the less and pushed himself back up to his feet. From there he raised his hands with flair and with a much more confident (and somewhat loud) voice he said “Then _rise_ , Inigo of the Indigo Skies, and henceforth let it be known that it is by your fierce might that you have been chosen as a Guardian of the Exalt! (How was that?)”

Inigo lifted himself to his feet and chuckled, resting his hands on his hips when he did. “Heh, why yes. 'Nailed it', I'd say.”

“ _Gods_ you two are idiots.” Severa scoffed at them from not far away, and Owain was startled out of his composure. When had she even arrived? She stepped closer until she was in front of the new Exalt, and she jabbed her fingertip into the center of his chest. “Me too. I'll be your other retainer.”

Owain raised his brow at her when he asked her “Why?”

“Ugh, because I don't want you to die, I guess.” She shrugged. “Besides, Inigo was right. This is the easiest way to get you out of castle lock down. If you want me to prove my strength too I'll be happy to beat you up.”

“Er—no.” Owain laughed. “That won't be necessary.” It was a jagged motion but Owain reached out and swooped his arms around both Severa's, and then Inigo's, necks. He pulled them in close in an awkward embrace that had both of them trapped in headlocks and bent over somewhat. Severa shoved against him to get free, but Inigo only found time to chortle at the display of affection. He must have been glad his plan had worked—and Owain was flattered that his friends had taken his concerns to heart.“You two are the best! This will be our greatest adventure yet, don't you think?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls don't ship owain/cynthia fair warning that is not a viable ship in this fanfic this story is headed right down the path to gay town.


	5. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain is getting married! Inigo isn't in the mood to bust out the bubbly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owain has new clothes because he's important now rags to riches yo. Anyway if you want a mental image it's like ephraim's outfit from Sacred Stones with less armor and owain's color scheme and also a circlet because tiaras make people happy especially me.

“An arranged _what_?” Owain asked, with no lack of disbelief in his voice. When his mother had asked him to come to see her in the library he had expected to hear... well not that. A lot had been happening to him lately, but with the ceremonies that came with becoming Ylisse's official Exalt behind him... well Owain had thought maybe he would have a little break in the race his life had become.

 

Apparently not.

He was leaned against the giant glass window's sill, he had been admiring the view past the castle walls. Ylisstol was bustling with people and life. Of course, their lives were a lot less important in that second than his own—abruptly ending, it seemed. “ _Marriage_?”

“Marriage.” Lissa answered, somewhat softly. Owain hadn't shouted by any means, but he couldn't imagine she had expected him to jump for joy at her decision. “The council has been considering it since the moment you arrived back home. I think they're right, Owain. It's for the best!”

Owain could have argued that point if he wanted. For the best of whom? Not himself, because he hardly dared to imagine who they would ask him to marry—and he doubted it was the person he would have ever considered. “Wait—who do you have in mind?”

His attention moved away from his mother when he saw movement. He knew that Sumia was here—she was always around the castle, she served as a one of the most trusted guards this castle had. She and Cordelia were in charge of the Falcon Knights. He knew she was there... but his heart fell into his stomach when he considered what that might mean. “Oh.”

“Oh? Don't 'Oh' me, Owain!” Lissa argued. “You and Cynthia have been nothing but close since the day she first spoke with you! She isn't nobility herself, but as a general and a beloved leader here she has more than enough favor. This marriage is meant to quell the concerns of the public, anywho. It isn't about foreign affairs or dowries. You're lucky, in that regard.”

Owain couldn't even prevent the sour look he gave her, though he had to admit the look she passed back to him was amusing enough to make him smirk. “Do they ask you to deliver bad news to me because they want me to take it better?” He asked.

“Hey! What other bad news have I given you?”

“I blame you entirely for this tiara.”

“It's a circlet!”

Indeed, the clothes that Owain had been asked to wear as of late were much different from what he grew up in. Before he'd always just dressed like his father—but that was generally the attire of the people of Regna Ferox. The ruler of Ylisse was expected to dress in Ylissian attire. It hadn't really bothered him. He was actually relieved that his clothes were not long or flowing or all that obnoxious. He probably had his mother to thank for the clothes, which were still the color scheme he'd always worn, but more lordly. He wasn't given armor, but to be fair he'd never bothered with much of it before. A leather guard covered the left side of his chest, but that was genuinely the only 'protection' on his body. This detail hadn't bothered him given the nature of the position he was in.

“It's not that I mean any disrespect to Cynthia.” Owain began, turning to face Sumia. “She is a hero across time! She deserves the ultimate ending to her incredible tale. But... Are you not worried about how _she_ might feel about this? Was she not meant to marry Morgan before he died..?”

“I am worried about that.” Sumia admitted quietly. “B-but not so worried that I disagree with the prospect of your marriage! Milord, if I may, she has changed so much since your return.” Owain wanted to slap her for talking to him so formally. She'd practically been a second mother to him, considering how much time he and Cynthia spent together as children. He almost mentioned the fact, but Sumia added something that had him silent. “Cynthia laughs and smiles around you. Before you came back... well she hadn't smiled since the day he died. You made her happy again. I think... you may be the best choice for her.”

“So why not give her the choice?” Owain asked. “Why do we have to 'arrange' anything? If it was meant to happen, it will happen. Destiny nor love can be swayed by force.” Of course, he knew that wasn't true. None of them were set in stone. He was among the children who changed the past. He knew that better than anyone. Fate was something that you could change, a path you chose yourself.

“Just consider it.” Lissa begged. Owain didn't like the tone of her voice. It sounded a lot like 'it's happening,' or 'accept it', than a consideration. It sounded like he was getting married, with or without his own consent.

 

…

 

“Um—no thanks. But you were sweet. For the most part. Bye.”

She was cute—her hair was blonde and tossed up on her head in a bun, with a few ringlets slipping out here or there. She worked at the bakery, but in the back usually. She was the owner's daughter. Inigo watched her go with a look of defeat and mild shame on his face. He was actually getting _worse_ at this with time, he was convinced.

“Ouch.”

Inigo winced. It would be just like _her_ to show up and add insult to his injuries. Still, when he spun on his heel to face her, Inigo had a bright smile on his face to greet her. “Why Severa, how _ever_ did you get here just in time to see that?”

“I make it a point to observe idiots in the wild.” Severa answered with a smirk. “She _really_ didn't like you. She practically ran away screaming.”

“Alright!” Inigo huffed at her. “Enough about me. How are _you_ today? It's rare for me to see you outside of the castle. What are you doing with your free time?”

Severa shrugged her shoulders. “I like to browse around the markets, just in case anything catches my eye. There was a woman selling perfumes down the road with some nice scents, but I'm not sure even _I_ could spend that much money on perfumes with a clean conscience. So... did you just come here to try your luck with some women?”

The sound of judgment in her voice was still there, even when she tried to restrain herself. Inigo let out an airy laugh and shrugged. “Would you have a problem if I was?”

“Well.... yes.” Severa's lips turned into a frown and Inigo wasn't sure why. What did his failed relationships have to do with her? But then a smile came over him.

“Ah, my sweetest Severa... are you feeling neglected by my actions? Allow me to make it up to you.” He reached out to take her hand, and made like he might kiss it, but she ripped it away from him before he could.

“Ew.” Severa groaned. “Inigo! Why are you _doing this_?” She started walking, browsing no doubt, and Inigo fell into step beside her since she had made their conversation mobile. He wasn't sure what she was getting at, honestly. Why was he doing what?

“I'm not sure what you're asking me.” He admitted. He watched her face for any change in emotion, but she had always been good at hiding hers. She just eyeballed the various booths and kept her lips in a flat line. He thought maybe she was done talking about it.

But she wasn't. “Why are you wasting your time flirting with women in the market? Doesn't it get redundant to you?”

“Of course not! Besides, who are you to impede on my right to find love?” Inigo asked, noticing Severa stopped to admire a bauble momentarily. She stepped back away from it when he looked over her shoulder.

“Are you trying to tell me that you think that girl you don't even know is the love you're trying to find?”

“Well, no, not necessarily.” Severa slipped in front of him, causing him to stumble to a halt before he stepped on her. Looking downwards just slightly at her, he noticed she was leering up at him.

“I think it's pretty clear that you aren't interested in any of the ladies you take out.” She argued.

“Well that's hardly fair! Any beautiful woman deserves to be doted on and told how wonderful she is, after all. I am quite interested in what they have to say!”

“This isn't fair, Inigo!” Severa threw her arms up and Inigo made a mental note that she was being entirely over dramatic. Of course, she often was. “You shouldn't take women out and lead them on when you have _obviously_ got your heart set on Owain.”

Inigo sucked in a breath of air so fast he choked on it. Between that and the blood rushing to his face and forming a hideous blush, he was looking away from Severa and rasping out “ _How obviously_?” How had she come to that conclusion? He had never said anything, never _done anything_. He was still coping with his feelings himself!

Severa was clearly amused by the presentation. In fact Inigo could have ventured to guess that if he hadn't reacted that way she may not have actually known how he felt at all. But she clearly had some evidence to suggest he cared for the Exalt. “ _Really_ obviously. “

Inigo cleared his throat and pushed past her to keep walking—but not so fast that she couldn't keep up easily. “I have it on good authority that you may be losing your mind. What even gave you the idea that—never mind. There's nothing to what you're thinking.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Severa snorted. “Inigo you are obsessed with him. You have been for years—maybe before we even went to Nohr! I think you're wasting your time, and his (and maybe even mine), by not saying anything. Just tell him how you feel!”

“You don't understand,” Inigo murmured. “Before it was different. We were best friends, cutting down foes and playing games with each other. His status as a prince never truly mattered. Things are different now. I think he may _actually_ be out of my league, now.”

“So what? You think you missed your chance?” Severa asked, but she wouldn't even wait for his answer before she stomped her foot on the ground. “Don't be daft! It doesn't change anything!Tell him how you feel!”

“Well that's just it, Severa. I hardly know how I feel myself. When you have known someone your whole life, how do you tell them that your feelings developed into love instead of friendship?”

Severa didn't even seem to blink. Inigo wasn't sure if he hated or envied her confidence on the subject. Maybe both. “Boldly and to the point.” She answered, as if it was a matter of fact. “You can do this! What's the worst that could happen?”

“Well, the way I see it,” Inigo held up his fingers and counted on them. “He could reject me, he could become shy around me, he could _fire me_ , our friendship could be ruined, or perhaps he would humiliate me.”

Severa reached out and curled her hand around Inigo's fingers, in a manner that was all too gentle. Inigo was familiar with the soft side of Severa as well as her walls she put up around it, but this was a touch he couldn't identify. She looked at him, tilted her eyes up, and in a voice that was all too sincere she said, “Or he could kiss you.”

Inigo's face burned this time. There was no hiding the brilliant blush, so instead Inigo hissed her name under his breath. “ _Severa_! I— _ugh!_ ” He wanted to argue with her but he wasn't capable now. In fact he was sure his whole day would be spent trying to cool his face off. How could she say that so easily? Did she really think that he might? He stepped around her and walked off as fast as he could without drawing any extra attention to himself—a hard task to complete considering Severa called his name after him.

“So you're going to tell him—right?”

 

…

 

For an hour or two each day Owain spent time with Chrom. This time was usually spent addressing the duties that Chrom was passing to him. He was grateful that Chrom was alive, and here to teach him these things... because he honestly had no idea how to run a kingdom. The Halidom was even more precious because of its peaceful nature. Or—at least the peaceful nature it wanted to be. In truth Ylisse went from one bloody war to the next, in spite of Emmeryn's best efforts. However the council held out hope for Owain to succeed where both Emmeryn and Chrom failed. Why? He had no idea.

“Chrom?” Owain asked, when it seemed safe to slip it into the conversation. “Truly no one can expect a chosen one such as I to be a mirror image of another person... right?”

Chrom rubbed his temples, having propped his elbows on his desk. He looked tired today, and Owain wasn't sure he cared. Honestly he had a lot on his mind too, between his duties and this potential marriage fiasco. “You're asking me... if you have to be just like Emmeryn?”

“Er—well essentially, yes.” Owain nodded his head. He was glad that Chrom was starting to figure him out without needing a translation, but he also hadn't liked the way Chrom phrased it. When he reflected the question back to Owain, he could see where it came off somewhat... whiny. Owain wasn't whining. He was arguing for something he believed in. “In a lot of ways, but specifically... Why is it that I cannot stand for peace and yet also carry a weapon? I know my retainers are there to protect me, but what if they weren't? What if they fell?”

Of course the thought of Inigo or Severa falling in battle made him stutter momentarily. It seemed like such a far away idea: what if war ever happened in their lifetimes? They had been through three already, there was no chance of another. And yet what were the odds, if there was... that the three of them would survive again?

Chrom nodded his head at Owain. “I've had the very same thoughts, Owain. From what I've gathered the people are most put off by the way I have always carried a weapon with me. They see me as a symbol of war—it's the very reason why I wanted to pass my title down to you. You are an unwritten book. Not a man of war or a woman of peaceful ideals.”

“But I can see that you want me to be more like Aunt Emmeryn.” Owain accused softly. Chrom chuckled at his nephew.

“I do. One day in history people will remember me as the man who slayed the Mad King Gangrel, the man who led an army against the fell dragon... but already I can see that people do not believe I can be a man of peace. It had settled somewhat, but then when..” He hesitated. “When my family died, Owain, the people could see death again. They expected it. And I gave it to them, to an extent.”

Owain wondered what he meant by that, but thankfully he didn't have to wait long. His concern must have been evident on his face because Chrom sighed and went on. “When I woke up and Libra was healing me, he told me everything. He told me why he arranged for the murder of my family, he told me who was involved. No one hid, they were proud of it. Noire, Gerome, Tharja, Libra... they all were involved—among many others. I was so shocked that people who we loved so dearly could murder them heartlessly. But they believed the visions Libra was having. They believed that the Fell Dragon would return through Morgan or Lucina. They believed they had to end the bloodline where it was.”

And they did. Owain knew that much.

“Afterwards I spent so much time with Lissa, with the council. We debated what to do, but there was no way we could let them go free. How? It would show the world that an attack on the royal family was just 'fine'. So we executed them. Publicly.”

Ah. Owain could see now how a public execution of people who were once revered as heroes could cause a great deal of concern. He could also see the necessity for it. It must have hurt Chrom to kill his friends, to kill people who he had seen since they were children. “I see.”

“Do you see, Owain?” Chrom asked, shifting in his seat somewhat. “I am a hero who fought for revenge, but I want you to be better. I want people to remember you as a great ruler, as someone who stands for peace, and equality, and stands for the good in Ylisse. Just like Emm. But... I honestly would prefer you had a weapon as well. And the earlier you carried one, the better.”

“So I..?”

“Let me talk it over with the council. I'm on my way to a meeting now.” Chrom answered.

Owain frowned at him. “Isn't it about time that I should start sitting in on the council meetings? Especially when lately they all revolve around me?”

“Not everyone is as nice as Henry.” Chrom said. “Every man in that room represents a different part of Ylisse and they all want what's best for the country. Their opinions are invaluable and also very strong. You are welcome to join us... but I'm not sure if you're ready for how... stressful you may find it to be.”

 

…

 

This was too much. Owain wished he hadn't bragged like he could handle anything. The men sitting around this table were all so strong willed and so powerful with their words. Owain had never seen anything like it. Lucina used to sit through these meetings—how could she without getting a headache? Owain knew that his head was pounding.

They had already covered a few topics. So far a quarter of the senate seemed to think that Owain's new clothes were too traditional, and that they should find him something that truly made him unique from previous rulers. The rest seemed to think that this was suitable, and so that argument came to a close rather quickly—and good thing, too, because Owain wasn't sure he wanted to gamble with the word 'unique' when it came to accessorizing. One additional argument was that they should at least hem the sleeve of one side of his shirt—so as to show off the Brand of the Exalt that was on his arm. It was covered up by the clothes he previously wore, most of the time. The brand was located on the outside of his arm. Just above his elbow. Chrom's clothing had been tailored to show off his own brand on his shoulder. Owain briefly wondered what would happen should someone inherit the brand on someplace less appropriate to display.

They wondered if he should remain in the castle or walk among his people. The debate seemed to melt there. Everyone knew the answer—so long as he was in the capable protection of his retainers, Owain should go out into the town now and then, if only to greet the people of Ylisstol and show them empathy. To care about their days and to hear their complaints or thoughts. Emmeryn did this often, and it gained the trust of her people. Before the war with Plegia, there was no real danger, either. Now that Ylisse was at peace, it felt safe.

Chrom spoke up. “Gentleman, I would like to talk about the Exalt carrying a weapon, while we are on the subject of walking among the people.”

“He doesn't need one!” One man called out. Owain tried to spot him, but before he could a different voice was agreeing.

“He has guards!”

“I _need_ a fair chance to be safe, and to protect my people.” Owain spoke up. Chrom was surprised, but he took a seat and let Owain rise and defend himself. “Lady Emmeryn was a vision of peace. She was not just someone who stood for peace, or someone who represented peace. She _was_ peace. She never treated people as an enemy and she took the word of others to heart, choosing to believe in them. She will always be a treasure in that regard, but I refuse to be quite as naive.”

He hoped the whispers he heard weren't entirely angry. After all, he meant no shame to Emmeryn. He was a little bit discouraged by the quiet chatter, but he turned his head and looked at Chrom for guidance. Chrom nodded at him, and raised his and to suggest that Owain continue. Owain shot a glance at Henry, who was rolling his hand in a similar motion. He took a breath and hoped it wasn't obvious to them how nervous he was.

“A sword is not just a symbol of violence. A sword is more than blood and death!” He knew he was getting a little excited. He wished Inigo and Severa were here. Specifically Severa, to kick him under the table and remind him not to babble on about swords and their many personalities. Maybe next time he would bring them. “A sword is a symbol of courage.. It represents safety, and honor, and protection. An army can stand up and fight for a world of peace, and even if they choose not to raise their blades offensively, there will always come a time where a weapon is meant to defend.

“The people of Ylisstol need to see their Exalt with a weapon at his hip, so that they know they can rely on him to defend them in their times of need. They need to see that the peace this Halidom so strongly embodies will be protected. The sooner they see it, the better—if we wait until war is upon us to wear weapons, it will be alarming and cause chaos.”

The murmurs had died down, and Owain felt a hint of color in his cheeks. Everyone was staring at him, and while he normally didn't mind, what with his theatrics... well this was different. He cleared his throat and took a seat, and Chrom cleared his throat.

“I agree with the Exalt.”

“As do I!” Henry chirped, and honestly Owain wondered if maybe he should be more optimistic about Inigo's dad. He was creepy sometimes, but he'd really been nothing but supportive of Owain. Looking back on it, he could see why he behaved the way he had when they first arrived back in Ylisse.

“A decision of this sort demands time for consideration.” One of the council members spoke up. Another agreed, and Owain found himself nodding his head dumbly. They needed time to think about it. That didn't mean no, did it? He somehow wondered if his argument had fallen on deaf ears.

“We should address the matter of the Royal Engagement.” Henry began. “While we're all here.”

Owain winced inwardly—maybe outwardly?--and he was starting to reconsider his idea that Henry wasn't so bad. Why did he need to bring that up? Did they need to discuss it? A few people agreed though. A man who had been otherwise quiet seemed eager to start this conversation. “A wedding is a necessary part of calming the people Ylisstol.”

“Do you think so, really?” Henry asked.

Oh, maybe he was against the wedding. Owain supposed that meant he was back to liking Henry again. Honestly his emotions were on a wild ride with Henry. Still the man in question nodded his head in complete confidence.

“A celebration! A wedding will give people far and wide a reason to celebrate. To have a party open to the public of Ylisstol will allow many of the most influential citizens to meet the Exalt. It will be his first time walking with his people—talking with them, laughing with them, hearing their concerns, even dancing!”

Oh, dancing. Owain wasn't so sure he could do that well enough to do so publicly. Maybe, he wondered, they should consider another form of entertainment. Owain didn't know how to dance.

“No one thinks this marriage will raise concern? All of the sudden our new Exalt has a new queen,and the people are to accept it so willingly?”

“Why should they be concerned? Assuming that the Exalt is willing to wear clothing that reflects his _brand_ , there should be no conspiracies that he is not of Exalted Blood.”

“A celebration is a grand idea! Think of how many people will feel at ease when they see for themselves the resemblance he bears to Lady Emmeryn!”

Actually, Owain thought, he bore a resemblance to Lissa. His mother. Although he supposed that he wasn't too bothered by the statement. He continued to listen to them with his tongue dry in his mouth. He could see their points. Was that normal? He was sitting in a room of strangers and they were telling him _why_ he needed to marry someone for the sake of his country. They were telling him why he had to marry Cynthia no less, and he was... agreeing with them. The Halidom _did_ need something else to talk about. They did need to gossip about parties and dresses and future children instead of whispering of assassinations.

That said, he still didn't want to do it. He just agreed that he had to.

 

…

 

“I'm going to tell him.” Inigo declared, and he slammed his fist into his palm when he did. Severa glanced up from admiring the memorial flowers. There was an individual memorial for all three of the family members. They each had a different sort of flowers planted. Lucina's memorial was surrounded by a rosebush. She wasn't sure how the roses came to sprout a pale blue, like a robin's egg. She imagined some magic may have been involved. She liked it, though. Lucina was a rose. Beautiful and resilient and occasionally full of thorns.

Still, she turned her attention to Inigo and her thoughts of her lost friend melted into thoughts of her two best friends (though she may never call the idiots that aloud) finding love in each other. She had been waiting for this day for too long, really. She could imagine it now: Inigo would confess his feelings, Owain would reciprocate them in an ultimately confusing and poetic way, and then Inigo would kiss him to shut him up. Not that she daydreamed about it too much, she just knew where this conversation would lead. She was sure that they both shared these feelings for each other. She would never pressure Inigo to say something unless she was sure.

“Are you now? You won't chicken out or run away this time?” She challenged. Inigo shook his head negatively.

“I deserve this.” Inigo said it, but then blushed somewhat. Severa didn't think he was wrong. He deserved it. He had spent so long making so many people happy. He had sacrificed so much to ensure that his friends could laugh and smile in the face of everything, even death. He was a man who tore himself to pieces in order to keep his loved ones whole... and he deserved to be happy. He deserved the man that always stopped to make sure Inigo didn't fall apart.

“You deserve this.” She agreed, and she nodded towards the large stone doors that separated the castle gardens from it's interior. Inigo looked over his shoulder at them, in time to see Owain approaching them. He turned back to Severa and shook his head.

“I can't do it.”

“You already said you would!” Severa hissed, but both of them fell quiet when Owain stepped within earshot.

Owain was clearly suspicious. “You two certainly are quiet.” He mentioned. “Did I interrupt something..?”

“Oh, no,” Severa answered. She crossed her arms and glared at Inigo, and Owain was glad that he wasn't on the receiving end of that look. “Just having a friendly debate.”

“Right.” Inigo cleared his throat and quickly lightened his tone when he asked “Where have you been, Owain? Did you lose track of time writing in your diary, again?”

Owain would have laughed if he wasn't so anxious about what was happening to him right then. He did find the energy to chuckle. Was he really planning to do this? He supposed he was. Severa and Inigo were both looking at him expectantly, and it seemed like now was the time to say it.

He meant for it to be boisterous and happy. It came out a little quieter than he had expected. And a little sadder. Was the disappointment he felt really so heavy that an actor such as he couldn't even hide it? “Cynthia and I are getting married.”

Severa's eyes darted away from Owain and landed squarely on Inigo. She watched him, but she could actually see the phases of her friend starting to fall apart. His eyes flashed with shock, his lips parted in protest, his eyes glistened as it sank in. He didn't say anything to defend himself. He didn't argue that Owain was meant for him.

Severa was angry. Owain could tell. “Why would you _do that_?!” She almost shouted. Owain wished that he had a good reason, but they weren't there. They hadn't heard so many people unanimously agreeing to the same point.

“It's an arrangement.” Owain tried to explain. He wished he could say he wanted to call it off, but he couldn't. Ylisse needed this marriage, just like they needed their Exalt. They needed a new beginning, but a beginning with a strong foundation and deep roots. “I don't have very much say in the matter.” He tried that. It was mostly true. Even if he had been opposed to it he knew it would have come upon him anyway. He was opposed to it being Cynthia. He still wished that they would consider her feelings more carefully.

“Why?” Severa sounded like she was accusing him of murder. “None of the other Exalts had arranged marriages!”

“It was never this urgent, before!” Owain's tone was just a little sharper but he wasn't trying to be angry. He was trying to defend himself. Surely they didn't think that Owain _wanted_ to marry her, did they? Owain wanted something else entirely. His eyes drifted in the direction of his unspoken affection, in the direction of the person he wanted, and he wasn't thrilled with the sight. Inigo looked genuinely pale. He looked like he was going to be sick. His eyes were glossy, he was shaking... and Owain couldn't stop himself from asking what he knew to be a stupid question. “Inigo? Are you alright?”

He ran. The same way he ran when he found out his mother was alive. It was equally amazing now to see him vanish so quickly, but this time Owain was riddled with worry. Soon enough all that was left was the sound of the door closing, and Inigo was gone. Owain cleared his throat, tried to reel in the emotions he was feeling in that moment. Inigo hadn't taken that well. He looked up at Severa to see her staring sadly after the door that had just closed. She was worried, too.

Severa then turned her attention back to Owain, and in a much calmer, much more sincere voice, she asked, “Owain, wouldn't you rather marry someone you're in love with?”

Yes. Yes he would. “That's just what I'm saying.” He whispered, but he hadn't meant to. “I don't have a choice, Severa. Of course I want to marry the one I'm in love with. Things are just... more complicated than I had hoped.”

Severa sighed at him, and she stared at him, and she was judging him. She was looking into his eyes in a way that made Owain feel like she was trying to read into his soul. It made him shy, momentarily, because he wondered if he looked as worried as he felt. “When you say it like that,” She began, “It makes it sound like you have someone in mind that you love.”

“We should go find Inigo.” Owain changed the subject. Mostly because he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk about who he wanted to love and marry versus who he was actually going to wed. He wanted to find out what happened to his friend, and he wanted to make sure he was alright. Severa dropped the conversation, but she reached out and pulled Owain back by his shoulder. 

“No. Let him go. He was rejected more seriously than usual today.”

 


	6. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally everyone is harassing Owain about his love life. Also he gets married. Inigo reconsiders the whole drinking idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how i made 2 chapters in one week happen but weird right????

Owain considered himself to be pretty much the best person in the world. Of course, he knew he wasn't. He had his own faults. Sometimes impatience, sometimes blindness to things he didn't want to see... but in this case, he wondered if he was really at fault. It had only been a week since the engagement was announced to the public—eight days since he told Severa and Inigo—and already the wedding was scheduled to be held in just one more week. It was anxiously close but also agonizingly far away.

He didn't want to marry Cynthia. He didn't even want to talk to her, actually. He'd been avoiding her since the day of the announcement. He felt bad about it, obviously, but... he could hardly stand the idea of talking to her. What if she was excited about it? What if she had feelings for him that he hadn't been aware of?

He knew that in the not far off future the next thing that this country would expect from him would be children. An heir—someone whose brand would surface young to demonstrate their strength. He knew they were coming, those demands, but right now he was just focused on surviving the wedding. He could worry about everything else later.

“You seem upset.”

Owain turned to look over his shoulder and sure enough his mother was there, acting as if the reason for his unease wasn't obvious. He turned his attention back to the window he'd been staring out of instead of immediately acknowledging her. From this window he could see the gardens—all of it was clear to the eye except for the interior of the hedge maze. He could see Inigo and Severa from here. They were sparring with each other—they had been all morning. Inigo had been quieter around Owain lately.

Owain was sure he didn't approve of the wedding. His behavior had started that day, and showed little sign of stopping. He was putting on more fake smiles, too. Smiles that were still lovely, but not genuine, so they had little meaning. Severa had promised Owain to get to the 'bottom of it'. He honestly just hoped that she could cheer him up, since Owain was clearly the cause of his frustrations. Or, at least, the wedding was.

“All great tales of heroism have dips and bumps in the path to success.” He tried. It was a sort of self-encouragement, but it was hard to believe himself. He wasn't sure he was on the right path, any longer. “Er—Mother?”

Lissa took a seat beside him. This window seat was once his favorite. As a child when the weather didn't permit playing games with Morgan or Cynthia out in the gardens, he would sit here and listen to stories of valiant knights from books his mother read to him. She sat back onto her palms and turned to face her son. “Yes, dear?”

“A week is really very fast.” He thought he would say something else, but that came out first. Lissa considered him, and nodded her head eventually.

“I think so too... but you will be ready. So long as I can find someone to teach you how to dance! I wouldn't want you to make a fool of yourself any more than you do naturally.”

“Charmed.” Owain snorted at her. True, his way of talking had gotten him stares in his lifetime. But he sort of liked it. Now more than ever. Making his life sound like a dramatic tale.... almost made it more forgivable that it was entirely out of his control. He looked down at his leg when Lissa patted it twice.

“How are you doing?” She tried, and Owain supposed he'd never been good at keeping secrets from his mother. Especially when they were weighing so heavily on him. He opened his mouth, but then he stopped. Could he tell her? Surely not everything. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell anyone that. Maybe it would be a secret he took to his grave?

“I'm worried.” He finally settled on words, but they still tasted bitter in his mouth. He was afraid of being too open, because he was afraid of messing things up. “I'm not... I'm not in love with Cynthia. I'll never—I mean to say...” He huffed and settled on pushing his hand through his hair. “She's not the first person I would have daydreamed about marrying.”

“Is my little boy in love?” Lissa asked. “It's poor timing, but if you have someone else in mind tell me who she is now! There's still a chance that...”

“No, no. I intend to marry Cynthia. I can't... I'm not sure...” He shook his head and looked back out the window at the pair below, still going at each other with their blades. Before it looked like Severa was in a better position, but it seemed now that Inigo was chipping away at her. He was very balanced, Inigo, and he had a way of moving that made it seem like he was just toying with his opponent. Owain knew that it made Severa angry when she lost to him and his fancy footwork. He glanced back at his mother just in time to see her follow his gaze, but she didn't say anything about his retainers. She just sighed. Loudly.

“Soo.... what you're telling me is that you are in _unrequited_ love? How do you always mix yourself up in the most dramatic possible scenario you can? Are you _sure_ you don't want to tell me?” She actually seemed to take an interest in what he had to say. He appreciated her concern for his feelings on this matter. In fact, it was nice of her to want to set him up to marry the _woman_ he loved. That said... well Owain knew.

He knew that his marriage needed to be traditional, and beautiful, and a celebration. He needed his marriage to be a time for gossip. Where will they go for their honeymoon? Will they have children? How many? He could already hear the questions. He had practically already rehearsed the excuses he would make to avoid answering them.

She was waiting for an answer but Owain had none to give. He just had to survive marriage. Once he had a better idea of how his life would be changing, and how dramatically it affected him... well then he would have a better idea of how to go about his feelings for Inigo. Lissa didn't say anything else to him, and he was thankful, but she sat on the seat and held his hand for a while before she was distracted by a new task. He appreciated the gesture.

 

…

 

 

Owain was asleep when Inigo found him. He hadn't meant to sleep. He was just so overwhelmed with _everything_ that sleep had been rare... and he had apparently taken the opportunity to catch up on it. His cheek was squished against the pages of an open book, and he was even drooling just a little—something that made Inigo chuckle but would inevitably embarrass the prince.

Owain awoke to the feeling of Inigo shaking his shoulder, and he woke with a startled noise. He sat up and rubbed his face, while Inigo apologized. “Your face was scrunched up. Either you were uncomfortable or you were having a nightmare—either way I imagined I should wake you.”

Owain was genuinely surprised that Inigo was talking to him without Severa around. He could have sworn that his friend had been dodging him, to an extent. “I'm fine.” He murmured a little too quickly to be believed.

“I'm sorry.”

Owain was somewhat surprised to hear that, coming from Inigo. He hadn't honestly done anything notably wrong, but he listened while his friend continued. “For being absent around you, the past few days. I know that you've likely had much to think about, and your problems weigh heavier on yourself than on me. I should have been here for you to talk to.”

Owain wasn't convinced he could have talked out his problems with Inigo. He shook his head, tried to shake off the unnecessary apology. “I.... I am alright, Inigo. Try not to worry about me so much.”

“You've actually hired me to worry about you, you know.” Inigo sat down—not in a chair like a normal adult, but on the desk of the study so that he could maintain his closeness to Owain. It didn't bother Owain any, because to be entirely honest there wasn't much on the desk aside from the book he'd drooled all over. “You've been a pillar of strength for me for so long, Owain. I feel it may be time to return the favor. After all, you carried me through my concerns in Nohr. So then. Tell me what's bothering you.”

He wanted to tell Inigo he was in love with him. He could feel it, the words perched on the tip of his tongue like they were just waiting for the right opportunity to jump out. But he couldn't. How could he say that? He had no business confessing love to one person and then marrying another. It had to wait.

Instead he voiced a different concern. “Everything is happening so fast.” He finally said. “When we came here I expected the opposite of this. I never wanted to be the Exalt—perhaps daydreamed of it as a child, but never expected it. It was just dumped on me! And now marriage, and what then? Children—I'll answer that for you—children will be next. I haven't got a grasp on any of this. How long should I have to bear the pressure of what _other people_ want, before I can have what...”

He had gotten carried away. A glance at Inigo showed him that the mercenary was hardly prepared for such an outburst, but he wasn't too surprised. “...What I want.” He finished, and shortly after he found himself unable to look Inigo in the eye, and he turned away with the beginnings of a blush.

Inigo leaned closer to Owain, no doubt because of the hush that had overtaken his voice. He grew quieter with every word, until he'd stopped. Inigo absorbed everything he had to say, like a really attractive sponge, and finally when he thought Owain had stopped for a moment he asked him, “What _do_ you want?”

_You_. Of course he didn't say it out loud. Instead he just found himself staring at Inigo for too many seconds to be considered normal. These feelings had to be mutual, right? How could they not be? Owain had many friends in his life, but the fire between himself and Inigo burnt brighter than the others. He was sure of it.

“I just want this wedding to be over.”

Inigo leaned away from Owain and in that moment the prince wished he'd kissed him. He wish he'd never let Inigo retreat back to an upright position. But he had. The moment was passed, and just as Inigo looked like he may speak up, Owain remembered his other complaints.

“I'm worried about Cynthia's feelings in all this. Not to mention that everyone seems to think we're star crossed. This wedding is being built up so strongly, I _actually_ think that the counselors care more about this than they did the coronation.”

“Probably.” Inigo muttered. “The party has been the talk of the town. I daresay there will be more food and liquor there than the two of us have seen in our lives. It's hard not to be excited for it. Music, singing, dancing, food, and of course the man of the hour.” Inigo gestured to him. “I think the people of Ylisse will be thrilled to see you take a wife—they probably don't care who she is at all. Cynthia's feelings likely could have been spared.”

“But they weren't spared.” Owain grumbled. Only a second later the rest of what Inigo said clicked. “Oh! And dancing! My mother is trying to find someone to teach me—I think she expects me to become a professional overnight. She's looking to hire someone today, I think.”

“I'll teach you!”

Owain had never heard Inigo say something so fast. In fact, Inigo blushed seconds later, lowering the hand he'd raised somewhat and clearing his throat. He continued that sentence at a much slower pace, one that caused Owain to chuckle in spite of his frustrations lately. “I'll teach you. To dance. To dance with Cynthia, or to dance with a group? Er, well I could teach you either. Or both.”

Owain was mighty surprised by the offer. Inigo was a dancer, but he was also a man of privacy. Since they had been children Inigo would wait until the skies were dark and everyone was asleep to go out and dance in privacy, under the moonlight. He got bashful just talking about dancing, and Naga save the man who accidentally stumbled upon it and stayed to watch. Inigo's lectures about staring could turn anyone off to sneaking around to catch him dancing... but still, Owain would argue that the vision was worth the lecture.

“Tomorrow?” Inigo asked, and Owain looked back at him. This wasn't a joke? He was happy to nod his head at Inigo, who slipped off of the desk to make a retreat out of the study.

“Tomorrow.”

 

…

 

Severa was tasked with something that day. Owain wasn't sure what—Chrom had asked her to do it. Owain thought it was something about the armory. Normally Owain loved to relax in the garden with his retainers. It was like the three of them could goof off in peace. That said, he was sort of glad she was gone today. Owain led Inigo into the center of the hedge maze. From there they wouldn't likely be seen by anyone.

He imagined that might help with the shyness Inigo often had about dancing. So far, however, he hadn't seemed too shy. Stripped of his armor that day, Inigo was standing a few paces away from him. “To begin you'll face each other like this. You'll raise your right hand,” He demonstrated, and then he waited. Owain supposed he was waiting for Owain to mimic him, and so he also raised his hand. “Yes, just like that. A little lower, mind you, when you dance with Cynthia. You'll want your hand to be even with hers when you come together, and she's a little shorter than I am.”

Owain supposed that made sense. “I thought dancing was more difficult than this.” he joked, and Inigo rolled his eyes at him.

“The first step is the hardest.” Inigo argued. “Step off, but remember to step with your left foot. Right hand, left foot. You take slow strides—but not too big. You'll be leading the dance, so Cynthia will have to match you. Go ahead then, step towards me.”

This wasn't so hard. He took the steps and Inigo mirrored him. They met in the middle, their hands touching, and with direction from Inigo they turned around each other in a slow circle. When they came back to where they started, Inigo released a breath. “There. Now shift your hand...” He didn't really say the rest of that thought. He just shifted so his hand was resting in Owain's. They were taking a dancing stance that was familiar, and Owain was confident he could at least _stand_ correctly. “...And put your hand around me. It should fit into the small of my back.”

Admittedly Owain sort of enjoyed this more than he knew he should. Inigo was actually being very serious as he told Owain how to step... but Owain was sure he would remember the way Inigo's bangs were falling over his face that day better than the dance steps. He wouldn't mind—he'd already prepared himself for failure at the wedding dance.

They moved slowly. Inigo led at first, but gradually he was letting Owain lead the dance—which had already caused one stumble and two instances of Owain stepping on him. “I'm lucky you're such a good sport.” Owain muttered after the second time. Inigo chuckled at him.

“You're getting it, you'll see.” He wasn't all that much shorter than Owain. Cynthia was a few inches shorter, she had to tilt her whole head to look up at the prince, but Inigo only had to tilt his eyes up. When he did, he blushed under Owain's stare, and he quickly looked away. “That's quite enough eye contact.” He muttered.

Owain couldn't have found that more amusing, all things considered. “I wondered when you would turn shy. The dance that you craft is one hidden away to unworthy eyes. I wonder why you aren't acting shy about it, now?”

“This is an entirely different sort of dancing.” Inigo answered softly. “This isn't a performance, no one is judging me. Dancing with a partner is more of a social event than a routine. Everyone is dancing, and so no one is watching _me_.”

He must have realized that Owain hadn't stumbled in a good few minutes, because he looked up at him again. With that, he also scoffed. “Stop looking down, Owain. You can see between us right now, but when you dance with Cynthia you'll be staring right at her bosom. Most women don't appreciate that.”

Owain laughed nervously and looked back at Inigo. There were limited places to look! His eyes, or the ground, but apparently both had been put off limits. Inigo didn't avert his eyes this time, though. “Do you speak from experience?” He asked.

This was working. After only a little longer he had practically mastered these steps—which essentially went on forever, until the music ended. Inigo must have been truly gifted to teach Owain to dance. Not that it was up for debate. Owain had seen Inigo dance a few times (both with and without the other man knowing) and he knew that he had a gift. Even when he complained that he missed a step, or that he over corrected, Owain almost never saw those flaws.

“Er—Owain..?” Inigo asked, and he realized he must have been staring into space or something. “I know this is a lot of steps to learn all at once... but your hand is drifting a little low on my back, milord.”

Oh. He supposed it was. He honestly hadn't noticed his hand slipping, but he felt cheated of an opportunity when he slid it back up Inigo's back. “Sorry!” He said right away, but only after that did his face twist into a halfhearted scowl. “Don't call me that.”

“Maybe I wouldn't have to call you that if you weren't partway through groping me.” Inigo swiftly challenged.

Owain found it in him to laugh, and Inigo smiled at him. It was meant to be a joke, of course, and it did it's job of lightening the mood after what was likely an awkward encounter for Inigo. “You're planning to attend, aren't you?”

Inigo's smile faltered. Only for a second. Owain saw it, though, and his own mouth drew into a straight line. Still, in that sticky sweet voice that only _he_ could make, Inigo nodded his head and said “Now, what sort of man would I be if I let my best friend get married without me?”

 

…

 

 

It was late. Later than Owain wanted to be awake. He wasn't a night owl like Inigo, a man with as much flair as Owain? He needed his beauty rest. But he couldn't sleep. He'd tried—he'd practically begged sleep to come take him. It wasn't happening.

It was the night before the wedding. Owain was sitting at the desk in his study. He was reading over a tome that he hadn't looked at in a while. He appreciated the magic and words it had to offer, of course, but that said he was hoping, somewhat desperately, that it would lull him to sleep.

To say he expected a visitor at this hour was absurd. He was quite startled by the creak of the door opening, and initially he thought it had to be Inigo. He was the only other person who would be up this late, right? But it wasn't. It was Cynthia. He supposed he should have been a little less surprised. Tomorrow would be her wedding, too, after all. She could have been just as anxious (or eager) as he was.

“I thought I saw light in here.” She nodded at the candle flickering near Owain, and he nodded his head. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He was still a little terrified she was about to tell him how happy she was that they were getting married, after all. He truly loved Cynthia, but honestly she was just a close friend. She'd always been. He didn't necessarily want to hear about her dreams of being his wife. In any case, the inevitable question arose from her voice: “Why have you been dodging me for so long?”

It was so hard to confess his problems to other people, but considering Cynthia now he had no issues with it. She may have the exact _same_ feelings as he did, as well, correct? “I've been coping with some things.” He didn't want to be vague, here. It was the early hours of the morning, and he wanted to sort this out before they exchanged vows. He should have done this a long time ago. “I'm not in love with you—I don't... think I'll ever be.”

She moaned. At first he thought it was going to erupt into anger, but the way she bent her knees and relaxed had him second guessing himself. Maybe she was sick? Maybe his words had alarmed her so much she felt faint? Before he could even worry over her she spoke up. “Ooooooooooooohhhhh my _gods_ that's great! I'm _really_ not in love with you either! I mean far from it. You're great, Owain, but—ha—thank goodness.”

Owain's face broke into a smile though. He wasn't offended by her _very clear_ relief not to have to love him, but he was practically rejoicing. This meant she wouldn't expect him to love her—this could be a game changer. Still, just to make sure she knew, he spoke up. “We still have to get married tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know.” Cynthia nodded her head at him. “It's absolutely for the best, politically speaking. So... why did you get all 'hide-y' about this? We could have talked about this a week ago and I know I would have slept better.”

He nodded his head. Yes, he wished he'd have spoken up before. But he hadn't, because he was trying to take it all in. “I was having trouble dealing with everything all at once.” He admitted. “I just took up the role o f Exalt, and everyone is making _all_ my decisions for me. I can hardly go anywhere alone. Not being able to marry who I want made things even worse, and I—“

Cynthia took in a gasp so sharp that Owain flinched, and she all but ran across the room to sit across from him. “Who? Who are you in love with?” She cleared her throat. “What almighty being has imprisoned the heart of the _unstoppable_ Owain Dark, and swallowed the key?”

She took up his old stance when she said it. Or at least, she raised her hand in front of her face to mock it. He laughed. Not a chuckle or a chortle. A bright laugh that echoed in the stone walls of the castle full of otherwise sleeping inhabitants. Of course, a second after he laughed, he knew he had to say the same thing he'd told everyone who had asked him this (rather personal) question. “I can't say.”

“Excuse me?” Cynthia asked. “I am about ten hours from being your _wife_! Tell me who your mistress is!” She grinned at him, and Owain wondered if she was putting up a wall to hide any amount of unease.

“No mistress—I'm not in a relationship with them. I don't imagine I ever will be... I'm not sure that I want to admit my feelings anymore.” How could he? Even if those feelings were reciprocated... well wouldn't it be cruel to tell someone he loved them, just so that he could never act on that love?

“What?” Cynthia's whole face fell. Her smile, her giggly attitude, it all disappeared in an instant. “Why wouldn't you? I won't mind.”

“Because now that you and I are getting married, I won't be able to marry them. And that...is only the beginning. You and I—we can carry out the things that Ylisse needs together. With him.... well a biological heir would be out of the question.”

He hadn't noticed his slippage until he saw her eyes widen and her lips come apart to form the first syllable of his name. He tried to stop her, he really did. He tried to shush her and he held a finger to his lips, but she practically screeched out the name. “ _Inigo?_ ”

“Cynthia!” Owain hissed, actually glancing around himself. “Could you _be_ any louder? It's late!”

“So I'm right?” She asked, and she reached across the table and gripped both of his hands excitedly. He wasn't sure she was all right in the head, if he was honest with himself. Still, she practically beamed at him. “I _wondered_ about that—I just wasn't sure. Oh! He's _so_ good looking, too. He's a real keeper. Wait...” She stopped herself. Owain didn't have to. It must have sunk in that their marriage would complicate that relationship. Then she shrugged. “I think you should still try...”

“I don't want to make him promises I can't keep.” Owain whispered to her. He looked down as her hands went from gripping his to gently holding them. Then she squeezed their hands momentarily. She was beautiful. Even when she was tired and worried, the way she was now... well she wasn't a hair shy of incredible. But he didn't want to marry her, and he didn't love her. That wouldn't change.

“Just follow your heart, Owain.” She encouraged him, quietly. He turned his attention back to her face, and she offered him a reassuring smile. “Everything will turn out alright.”

Owain desperately wished he could believe her.

 

…

 

The wedding was more fun than Owain had ever imagined. As it turned out, his conversation with Cynthia the night before put him at ease. _She_ put him at ease. A few times during the party she made a joke that had him bursting with laughter, and more than once she suggested he drink a little more, until he could pretend she wasn't herself. He declined, in truth, because he was glad it was her.

He still worried over her. He had been so wrapped up in himself the previous evening he hadn't asked her a thing about Morgan. How did she feel, marrying Owain, when she was meant to marry his cousin? Morgan and Owain weren't similar enough to truly compare. They were both loud and excitable, but Morgan had more of his mother in him. He was tactical and smarter than Owain ever hoped to be, and his smile was...

Gone.

Owain worried that Cynthia was laughing because she chose not to cry. But he knew that after they left the party they had a long carriage ride to the West Castle. They would be staying there for some time to 'celebrate as newlyweds'. It was tradition to visit there, but also it was safe. While they rode in that carriage... well he imagined he would let her cry, if she wanted to.

His dance with Cynthia was a success. It was even sort of fun—except for the part where his eyes noticed Inigo watching him. He wasn't sure if Inigo was deliberately judging his technique... or if he was bothered. It was moments like that in which Owain wished he _didn't_ suspect Inigo cared for him as well. He wished Inigo had no interest in him whatsoever, because he imagined it wasn't easy to stand where he was and watch.

Owain never wanted to watch Inigo marry someone else, that was certain.

 

…

 

Inigo hated this.

He hated watching Owain get married. Not because he didn't want him to be happy or because he wanted the country to crumble into dust... but because _he was so jealous_. Every now and then he noticed his palms hurting from how hard he was clenching his hands. When he would open them he noticed little spots of blood where his nails broke the skin—but he had hardly noticed at all when it happened.

He had never wanted to be Cynthia more than he did now. In their youth he once was jealous of her ability to win women over. Cynthia was always being baked cookies or given gifts of praise for doing what she did best. Inigo had wanted to be more like her in that regard, and for women to notice him.. Now he hardly cared about what those village maidens thought. They were just distractions for himself, to pretend he wasn't irreversibly in love with the Exalt.

The Exalt who was smiling more today than Inigo had seen since they returned home. It was like Cynthia was whisking away all of his worries, and they only had eyes for each other. The few times that Inigo's eyes did meet Owain's, his liege looked away and blushed. Normally Inigo would have loved that, would have cherished bringing about that expression. Today he worried. Maybe he truly had missed his chance? Forever? Owain hadn't wanted to be married, but what if he left with Cynthia for a month and they fell in love? He worried that Owain avoided his eyes because he was happier looking at Cynthia.

He had always been jealous of Cynthia to some degree, but he had also never imagined she would marry the man he wanted to love. He supposed that he had wasted his time by being in denial about his feelings for so long.

He gasped when Severa bumped his arm. He turned to look at her and she was wearing a dress. He rarely saw her in something like that. She always wore clothes she found comfortable to fight in. She always had her sword buckled to her hips—even when they were in the market the other day. Of course, everyone was dressed for the occasion. The whole capitol was wearing their nicest clothes. To say that Severa stood out as the most beautiful woman in the room may have been a stretch... but she certainly stood out as unexpectedly beautiful, for what it was worth.

“They're leaving.” Severa said. Inigo looked in the direction she came from, and sure enough a crowd was gathered to wish good blessings on the couple and their travel, and their time alone. There was a separate guard at that castle. Inigo and Severa were not going on this trip. It was probably for the best—Inigo was sure his imagination could conjure up images he didn't wish for without having to possibly witness it first hand.

Still, Inigo walked a little closer. Not close enough to be part of the crowd, because he had no interest in that. In fact, he kept his distance so that he could see more clearly. He stood on his toes, he watched Cynthia and her stunning gown disappear into the carriage... and then Owain saw him again. He knew their eyes had met because the tension Inigo was feeling sparked like a bolt of lightning between them. Owain waved at Inigo. He got into the carriage.

What did that mean? Goodbye? I see you? I'll miss you? Inigo could have spent days trying to decode what a single 'wave' meant.... but he didn't.

Admittedly his face was pulled into something closer to a sneer than a smile. He hadn't meant to be this bitter. He had meant to be jovial and to support his best friend. He supposed he had spent too much time dwelling on how that was the end of their relationship's line: best friends. He was sure he would get over this—it would simply take time.

The carriage had only just disappeared from sight when he felt it: pain that was familiar, but sharper than usual in the side of his arm. He choked on a gasp and snapped his head to look at Severa again, after she punched him. Punched him in the arm! Hit him while he was down! “Are you wearing a _ring_? Goodness, that _hurt_.”

“I know.” Severa answered, and Inigo waited for an explanation.

...And waited. She didn't provide one right away, and so he prompted her. “So why would you do it!?”

“To give you an excuse to cry.”

The party had been loud the whole time, but after she said that he swore the world around him was quiet. Everything was quiet, while he considered her. His eyes shined, he lost his words... he was genuinely choked up by the gesture. He watched her open up her arms and he stepped into them for a few moments. He hugged her tightly and he cried into her shoulder. They must have stayed like that for a good, long minute before he collected himself.

He stood up straight and used the ends of his fingers to wipe away any remaining tears. He looked fine—Severa would have warned him if his face was a mess, he was sure. Finally he cleared his throat. “This is for the best, and for the future of the Halidom!”

“Yes.... it is.” Severa agreed. “But that doesn't mean you have to be happy about it.”

Inigo chuckled at her and gestured to the party that was still going strong. “Who am I to waste this evening? There are plenty of lovely ladies waiting to be swept right off their feet.”

Severa looked skeptical. Her brows knit together and she lifted a finger in protest. “Inigo, you aren't in _love_ with any of tho—“

“Who cares? Let me be irresponsible for one night. You should too! Go enjoy yourself! The Exalt will return before you know it.”

He turned to walk away from her, specifically because he needed a drink. A strong drink. A lot of a strong drink. Still, as he was walking away from Severa he could hear her quietly say “He hates it when you call him that.”

Yes, Owain hated it when Inigo used his title. Still... Inigo hated that Owain was married. It only seemed fair that he be a little resentful about it. By the time a month was over? Inigo would surely have gotten over this bitter taste in his mouth.

 


	7. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain is back. Inigo is nervous. Severa tries to play detective. Everyone is dumb.

“You could look a little less excited to get away from me.”

Owain was shaken out of his thoughts by Cynthia's voice. He recognized it as a playful tone and offered her a sheepish grin in exchange. It was no lie that he'd been staring out of the small window of the carriage for hours now. They were finally going home.

It had been a long month. Of course a full moon cycle was tradition, and he supposed it made plenty of sense, but he still found the time away from his friends to be difficult. Especially the time away from Inigo.

The last time he had seen Inigo he waved, but Inigo didn't wave back. Inigo instead stared at him with something akin to a scowl. It was something that Owain wouldn't soon forget; he didn't think he had ever been looked at quite like that... and growing up they had made their fair share of jabs at each other.

Cynthia had tried to tell him over and over that Inigo wouldn't have suddenly decided to hate him, and Owain knew that to be true. His concern was that Inigo would have used this month of time to heal. Where would Owain be if he came back with every intention of following his heart, to find that Inigo no longer held a place for Owain in his own?

“A girl might think you don't like her!” Cynthia continued, and Owain found himself chuckling under his breath.

“I think I'm way less excited than I am nervous.” His time with Cynthia had actually been really nice. He'd always known her, but he felt closer to her now than he'd ever been. In a _lot_ of ways. Mostly, though, she seemed to understand his feelings. The two of them had decided together that he should still pursue them... however quietly, at first. Later on, perhaps, he could bring that information forward. It wasn't uncommon for nobility, especially kings, to have public mistresses. It _would_ be awkward to make that announcement now, but... eventually there was a chance it wouldn't be too frowned upon. So long as they made the announcement before someone else did, it shouldn't be an issue.

So that was where they stood. Cynthia was backing him in his decision to make his feelings for Inigo work, and eventually they would make it public—when an appropriate time to do so arose. The biggest problem was Inigo's feelings, at the moment.

“I'm sure he isn't mad at you.” Cynthia tried. She dragged out her voice, she practically whined, and it was because they'd had this conversation already. “He was probably upset! You told me yourself that you think he has feelings for you, right?”

Owain nodded his head, but made to look out the window again. It was embarrassing to look into her eyes and talk about this sort of thing! “He must. What I feel cannot _possibly_ be coincidence. But...”

“...But?” Cynthia asked. She had her hair up in pigtails again. Around the castle she rarely wore it like that, and Owain couldn't have known why she did it today. It was cute. It made her look more youthful—not that any of them were old enough that their aged showed. Owain didn't feel weird thinking that Cynthia was beautiful. She was! Not to mention she was his wife, and even if their marriage was forced he still appreciated her as a human being.

“...But heartache can scab over, and leave nothing of love but an old scar that never heals.”

Cynthia raised both of her eyebrows at him, a look that seemed surprised. “That was deep. Are you writing a ballad? I just don't think Inigo would have 'gotten over you' so fast. Even if he did, you can tell him the truth. As long as you think he can keep it a secret.”

Owain almost laughed. It was her loud mouth that was most likely to blab, but he kept that thought to himself. Inigo and Owain had no issue keeping secrets, as they'd made clear in Nohr. Inigo perhaps was the best of the two of them—if they kept a tally he was sure that Severa had whacked Owain in the arm more than Inigo.

Then again, Inigo and Severa spent a lot of time together now, while Owain was busy doing work in his study with Chrom or when he slipped off to visit his mother. He wondered if Inigo's tally had gone up by much? Although he supposed Severa had significantly fewer reasons to whack someone now.

Still, her offer was tempting. He stared at her. They'd talked about Morgan a little. She wasn't over it—who could expect her to be? Just entertaining the idea that for one second that he would lose Inigo forever was enough to make him shut down. Three wars! Three wars together and somehow, magically, they had kept each other safe. They had their fair share of close calls, of worries and concerns and glimpses of 'what if'.... but they were alive.

He could imagine the pain of losing Morgan for Cynthia was something similar to losing her family before, but also emptying. Losing their parents was different. Their past was ripped away from them, they had nothing but memories to go by. Losing Morgan wasn't losing her past, so much as it was losing her future.

“I'm worried about you.” He said. She dipped her head to the side and he continued. “If word gets out about this it would shame you twice as much as it would shame me. I trust Inigo to keep a secret but even the most carefully laid plans sometimes go awry. If someone overheard or saw something—I'm just not sure I want to risk your dignity.”

“Pfft! My dignity is fine. I'm a general in the army and people still think of me as a little girl with her head in the clouds. Nothing you could do to it would make it sink much lower. Alright? Don't you dare use _me_ as an excuse not to tell him how you feel.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes! So promise me you'll talk to him—as soon as we get back.” Owain was glad to have her. She was a beautiful woman, she had incredible talents and skills, she was great for the Halidom... but she was also such a close friend (and much closer now that they shared sleeping quarters) that Owain knew he would cherish her and protect her until the end of time. She deserved to find love too, of course, and should she ever decide she wanted to try again he would be happy to assist her in sneaking around.... but in spite of those offers she still seemed determined not to get romantically attached again for some time. He couldn't blame her.

“Er... I promise to talk to him eventually.” Owain ended up answering. He was still nervous as ever about it, even with her blatant approval for the tenth time. A look on her face caught his eye, however. A flash in her eyes, something different, and he narrowed his own at her. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Cynthia asked innocently enough. She folded her hands in her lap and dipped her head just a little, and her hair slid to the side. “I didn't say anything!” Owain continued to stare at her, but she said nothing. Just as he was about to give up, just as he had decided it was nothing, she groaned. “Okay! I cave! I admit it—I sent a letter.”

“You sent a what-ter? To whom?” How had she managed that? The whole point of this trip was privacy, there were guards and wait staff but hardly anyone who would deliver a message.

“To Inigo, obviously.”

Owain's heart actually jumped into his throat. “A letter to Inigo.” He repeated cautiously. “A letter that said what, exactly?” Anything but a confession. He had repeated the prayer in his head a few times before she answered. Anything at all but a confession. He wanted to do that on his own.

“A letter from you. One that said when you got back that you needed to talk! Really, it was nothing. Very vague. He probably didn't even keep the letter!” Cynthia answered. She smiled, and so did Owain, but he wondered if that was really true. If he knew Inigo at all, he knew that he could dwell on absolutely nothing for days if he didn't understand it. Something as trivial as losing a petty contest could send him into a tizzy—and a vague letter could likely do the same.

 

…

 

They were due back today. Inigo had been pacing around for a while in the courtyard. There was no sense in waiting for him in the front of the castle grounds because he was so low on the priority list of who to see first. Owain would be greeting his family first, and Cynthia hers. He'd likely have to be caught up on his duties and briefed on the news and events that had happened in his absence. Of course nothing incredible happened. In Regna Ferox a new Khan had stepped up to replace Basilio—who passed away. The way the news was spread hardly seemed like he had been murdered. The Feroxi politics were all very aggressive, if he hadn't died naturally of age he probably had died of their “politics”.

Inigo was thankful that they were not the sort of country to indulge in strength-based politics. Of course, were they, maybe Owain wouldn't be the exalt at all. He turned on his heel to pace back the opposite direction and had to come to an abrupt stop when he glanced up and was met by orange hair. “W—Gods! Severa! Are you out to kill me?”

Her giggle was something Inigo couldn't identify as comforting. He cleared his throat and stepped backwards one step so there was a reasonable amount of space between them. “Your hair looks nice today.” Severa said. That was the first thing she said, and Inigo shook his head, blushed, and reached up to straighten it.

“No, no, I don't believe that's actually what you came here to tell me.” Inigo argued. “Maybe I'll buy a bell that you can wear—then you won't be able to scare me like that.”

“Oh trust me, I could have snuck up on you even if I had ten bells. You were _way_ off in la la land. Why are you pacing?”

Inigo blushed again. Had he been totally lost? Perhaps. He was somewhat nervous! “I wasn't pacing.”

“Why were you strolling through the gardens back and forth in one line?” Severa tried again. Then, and without Inigo even trying to interfere really, she reached out and tugged a folded parchment from his belt. “Oh—is this the letter you got last week? Is this why you're nervous?”

“I never said I was nervous.”

“Right, so you're nervous because you think Owain is going to call you out and stomp all over your feelings, right?”

How she was able to say that without even batting an eye was genuinely amazing to Inigo. She was so strong, she could hide her emotions behind a barricade of sarcasm and sass and dismissal. Inigo envied that, sometimes.

“Is that why you made sure your hair looked nice today, too?” She went on to ask.

Inigo reached out and snatched the letter back from her, tucking it more appropriately into a pocket. “I did _not_ do anything special to my hair today, thank you. Would you believe I just have good hair days? It happens to the best of us.”

“I would believe that a lot easier if you didn't smell nice, too.” Severa put her hands on her hips before canting them to one side, a stance she often took before she _really_ laid into him, he had learned. “So are you trying to impress him or are you afraid of him? I'm getting mixed messages here.”

Inigo didn't know. He wasn't trying to be any extra impressive really, he honestly was just clean and having a good day. That said he _was_ nervous. “What could that have possibly _meant_?”

“I think it means he wants to talk to you privately.” Severa answered, and Inigo waved her off.

“Yes, yes, I can read just fine.” He murmured. “I'm just... I worry that he'll come back here and be in love with Cynthia. I worry that he'll want to tell me every detail of his wonderful honeymoon, and that I'll have to smile and cheer for him.”

Severa's smirk turned into a flat line, and she grunted in annoyance. “That wouldn't explain why he sent that letter. You don't send a letter to someone saying 'we need to talk' when you want to brag about your new wife. Where is your shining smile, Inigo? Laugh in the face of worry, alright? Whatever motivational crap Owain would say. Just keep your chin up.”

Severa was nice, but she wasn't as much of a motivational speaker as Owain, that was certain. Inigo did appreciate the effort, however, and so he flashed her a smile. It must have worked, because she smiled back at him before she disappeared in the direction of the castle. Inigo needed to leave anyway. He had some things to go over with Henry about the upcoming council meeting.

 

…

 

Severa needed answers.

She had been so confident that those idiots loved each other. Not just one idiot loving the other, specifically. _Both idiots_. She had gone to Nohr with them and felt like a third wheel the whole time. Honestly it was gross. So how could this have happened?

She understood most of it. Owain had to get married blah blah blah. She just wasn't clear on why he looked so _happy about it_. There was no doubt about it. Owain's smile at his wedding was genuine. Something, or someone, had made him _happy_.

Was it his new wife? Did he love Cynthia? How?

It made Severa sick. Not that she liked to admit it, but she had a soft spot for both of them. She didn't want to say that she cared about Inigo's heart and if it was broken or not, but... well she was sort of proud of him! He'd finally started to understand his feelings. He had come to terms with why he didn't succeed with women, with why he didn't _want to_ succeed with women. He had finally found what he wanted, and it was so close he could _touch it_....

...and then stupid Owain got married, and now no one really knew _what_ was going on anymore. “Hey! Cynthia!”

Cynthia stopped midway through stepping into the saddle of her pegasus and turned in the direction the sound came from. Severa waved her arm to get her attention. “Oh! Hi Severa!” She greeted. Severa nodded her head.

Cynthia. Cynthia was going to provide her answers. She was an easy target. She _loved_ to talk. Especially about herself. Not in a very vain way, but in a sort of inspiring way. Almost in an “Owain” way, but... not nearly as severe. “How was your honeymoon? As _vaguely_ as possible, please.”

Cynthia's lips immediately turned into a grin. Devilish even. Severa was actually somewhat nervous about it. “Are you saying you don't want to hear about the dirty details of Owa--”

“That is exactly what I'm saying just— _ew_.”

Cynthia laughed. “It was fun, Severa! Owain is a blast. But you know that; you and Inigo have been with him longer than I have. Oh! Listen, we took a walk past a pond, and there's a bridge over it, right? And a duck jumped out of the water and scared him—he fell right off the little bridge and into the pond! Ha!” she slapped her own thigh and laughed so much harder than was actually apropriate and honestly it was all Severa could do not to laugh herself.

Owain falling into a pond because he was afraid of a duck? It sounded like Severa had missed out on something golden. She hoped it was true—she wanted to hear his defense. She couldn't wait to poke fun at him about it later. But this was business, and she couldn't be distracted. She had to have _some idea_ of how they felt. Maybe it was a lie? Maybe they weren't actually in love? That was the only option that would be safe for Inigo's fragile little heart right now. “So it was romantic, right?”

Cynthia blinked at her. “What? Yes, it was romantic I guess. It was mostly just funny. Oh! You mean the whole trip? Yep! Plenty of romance! Owain is a great husband. Had a swell time!. Er—I was about to go flying... Did you need anything else?”

“What? Oh—no.” Severa clamped her mouth shut and considered what she had been told. She could tell she was being dismissed and she wasn't about to argue with Cynthia on the subject. Granted that in spite of the fact that she was the queen, Severa thought that she could probably still push her around. She certainly pushed Owain around.

The problem was that she hadn't gotten a very clear answer. All she'd been told was that Owain was a great husband, and what did that mean? Did it mean that he wooed her? Loved her? She shuddered as she walked away. Maybe Inigo had a point. Maybe she was wrong about everything. Maybe she should go find Inigo and tell him to just... give up?

No, giving up wasn't an option. Her mother hadn't raised her to be a quitter.

 

…

 

Normally when they would spar, Inigo and Owain would be close matched. They both had their advantages and disadvantages. Not unlike Severa, Owain often found himself falling to Inigo's way of moving. It was like he was dancing. It must have been some combination of swordplay and art, because just to watch it was like watching a performance. Funny—Inigo had never seemed shy to do that in front of anyone else. Owain found it really enjoyable—he almost wanted to ask Inigo to teach him. Severa usually got mad about it.

Severa had been the one to suggest that the two of the spar today. Owain had been optimistic. He enjoyed sparring, no doubt, and he certainly had missed spending time with Inigo while he was away. But this time they weren't evenly matched. It was more than obvious that something was bothering Inigo. His movements were sluggish by comparison to his normal, natural agility. He seemed distant. He was hesitant to talk to Owain. Owain was sure it was an unwanted side effect of Cynthia's letter.

He supposed part of him did need to thank her. By sending that letter she had ensured that he _had_ to talk to Inigo about all of this. But what it had also done was clearly plant the seeds of anxiety into his friend—someone who was often susceptible to worry more than others. Even worse, someone who rarely spoke about his concerns to anyone other than his closest friend. Who should he talk to if his closest friend was the one he was worried about?

But if he was being truthful, Owain knew he had been avoiding the subject like the plague. He wanted to talk things out with Inigo, but he had his own worries. Rejection wasn't that high on the list of concerns, but it was unfortunately always a possibility. Even if he ignored that possibility entirely, he didn't want Inigo to think he was selfish. He felt selfish. He felt like he was ultimately putting his own wants and desires before Inigo's or Cynthia's... even if she had practically begged him to do so. But... he regretted avoiding the subject, now. To see Inigo looking so lackluster, to see him carry himself without that usual twinkle in his eye... well it was disheartening. He hated to think he had contributed to the anxiety that was written so clearly on Inigo's face. “We should stop.”

Inigo lowered his sword immediately. There was no hesitation involved—and Owain wondered if that meant Inigo was more focused than he had previously thought. He had expected him to be lost in thought. “Are you alright?” Inigo asked, and Owain nodded his head, despite the opposite thing coming from his mouth.

“No. I mean yes—Of course I am! Just... walk with me.” He could see that Inigo seemed hesitant. Still, Owain stepped closer to him and took the practice sword from his hands. He placed both of them onto a stone bench. Later he would be sure they were put away just perfectly. Inigo watched him, and when Owain waved his hand in the direction of the maze Inigo fell into step beside him, walking at a pretty casual pace.

Owain would tell him in the maze. It was more private there. Until then he just had to make some small talk to fill the silence, right?

“So... how was the trip? How was Cynthia?”

Owain hadn't heard something sound both genuine and bitter at the same time before in his life. At least not out of Inigo. Maybe Severa could master such a tone, but... well it was a little off putting! Inigo wasn't meant to suffer through bitterness. Severa had mastered it. He supposed his idea of strolling through the maze together would have to wait. He reached out and slid his hand around Inigo's. It wasn't romantic, he didn't intertwine their fingers like they would just swing their arms and giggle at each other. He clasped his hand and Inigo looked at Owain for explanation. Instead of properly offering him one (like any normal adult would) Owain ran. He just ran.

There was only a short lag, a split second where Inigo hadn't realized they were running yet. A brief yank before Inigo got the message and ran too, just a step behind so that Owain could guide them. Owain knew his way through this maze like the back of his hand. Or, at least, he once thought he did. But Cynthia had shown him another way through. At the time she promised him there were more than just two options in life. He hoped that same wisdom would truly apply here as well... because as much as he wanted his relationship with Cynthia to be a political success... well he certainly didn't want to ignore his feelings for Inigo.

They were deep in the hedges when Owain decided it was far enough. He knew from here they wouldn't be seen from outside—or even from the window overlooking the gardens above them. Their voices would be muffled—especially if they spoke softly. They'd passed at least a hundred white roses up, but if he went too much further they would be in the center of the maze and the bushes wouldn't mute them.

When he stopped running he did so much too abruptly. Inigo didn't stop on time and ran into his back, and Owain turned around just in time to see his retainer reach up and cup his hands around his nose. “ _Ow!_ ”

“Ah ha!” Owain cried, as if he could cover his blunder with his showy ways. “A worthy hero is always open to change on a moment's notice!” He hardly missed a beat, but that didn't mean he didn't feel bad about it. He waited a moment until Inigo lowered his fingertips from his nose. There wasn't blood, so he must not have been too mad. No real damage done, but none the less Owain reached out with his index and middle finger extended and placed them on Inigo's nose.

There was a second of awkward silence. It was quickly interrupted. “What are you doing to my nose..?” Inigo asked. He sounded almost like he might laugh—and Owain supposed it was fair. Anyone who knew him probably thought he was blessing his nose for it's valiant efforts. Really though, not a moment after the words left Inigo's mouth, a gentle and dull white light formed between Owain's skin and Inigo's. When he pulled his hand away a second later Inigo immediately reached up to rub his nose again. “It stopped throbbing—was that a heal spell? I thought you were no good with magic anymore?”

“I'm not going to summon incredible spells, if that's what you're asking. I lost most of my magical abilities when we returned home.” Owain grinned at him, and he was honestly proud that it worked. “But my mother is a healer, and my aunt was very magical too. I'm not very good yet, but mother is teaching me. She thinks healing magic may make me a more capable Exalt. Can you imagine? The Exalted Owain Dark walks the streets of his people. A bandit strikes! A poor boy—hardly more than a child—is cut down. Severa the Moonborn and Inigo of Indigo skies rush the bandits and--”

“And you heal the boy? Yes, quite the ideal story.” Inigo smirked at Owain, and he wasn't sure he was buying into this scenario. Owain shrugged.

“If I can heal my people they will trust me more. She isn't wrong. I've dabbled with healing magic before anyway. I've just never been good at it.”

“It worked just then.” Inigo sounded lighter. It was the same reassurance he often gave, and Owain was glad to hear it. It was a nice alternative from the bitterness in his voice earlier. “And you didn't even have a stave to use as a catalyst.”

“I can use the magic without staves! But not with skill to mend skin yet. Taking away soreness is all I can do. It's one of the things I learned about myself while Cynthia and I were away.” Owain began. Inigo's face fell in the exact moment that Owain mentioned her name, and despite of how much he disliked seeing his best friend frown... well it gave him confidence that he was right all along, and that his feelings were the same. “I learned a lot about myself, and about my future, on that trip.”

“What does that even mean?” Inigo asked. He rubbed his nose a final time, and Owain wondered if the spell had made it tingle. It didn't matter. He had just been showing off anyway. Owain watched Inigo step into a more defensive stance, in which his arms were crossed like he was preparing himself for bad news. It was a stance that Owain unfortunately had seen before, in times when he was lacking trust for someone. It made him uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of that look.

“I want to tell you a secret, a tale so monumental and detrimental that not even a book so legendary as the Manual of Justice may contain its power.” Owain had expected Inigo to ask for clarification, but he just nodded his head. In the very least Owain suspected he would make fun of the mention of his 'diary', but not even that came forth. Inigo just waited. Silently. Eagerly? Owain didn't mean to, but he knew his voice dropped a few notches in volume. Everything suddenly felt much more intimate, and much quieter. “Cynthia sent that letter to you.” He wanted to start with that. “I haven't seen or read it, but I think I've got the jist. It isn't a lie. We should talk. The first thing I want to talk about is my marriage.”

Inigo shifted. His arms uncrossed and he tucked his thumbs into his belt. He still said nothing, but Owain was glad. He sort of hoped that meant Inigo was relaxing, somewhat. What he did notice was Inigo take a step closer, likely to make up for how quietly Owain was speaking. Often he was loud. He spoke with his hands, struck dramatic poses, and nearly shouted his words. Inigo and Severa had learned to give him a wide bit of space. This must have been surprising. The silence made Owain nervous.

“Cynthia and I are not in love... nor do we ever intend to be. The marriage is a front for the people of Ylisse.” Did Inigo just breath a sigh of relief? Owain thought he saw him do so. “ _Everyone_ needs to think this marriage is real. The council, the people, our families and parents... everyone has to believe in it. If they don't believe in it, what's the point? They won't believe in me. I _want_ the Halidom to feel safe and happy—to think that peace is finally upon us.”

Inigo's eyes grew rounder for a moment, and Owain watched his face cycle through a few feelings. Twice he moved his mouth like he was going to speak up, but twice he also silenced it and thought more. Once he bit his lip, and Owain wondered when he was going to open his mouth and actually explain what he was thinking, for once. It came out in a whisper. Were they whispering now? Owain had hardly noticed that their voices were that low. “You're both giving up your own happiness for the good of the country.”

Yes.

Owain supposed the answer to that question was indeed yes. Not that it was phrased as a question. He noticed Inigo was once more a little closer to him. He did this every time Owain whispered, it seemed. He could clearly remember the day that Inigo came to talk with him in his office, and the way that he leaned in to hear the soft words Owain spoke. Owain still wished that he had kissed him in that moment. “No one can know. Not even Severa. If Severa can believe in it, anyone can.”

Inigo shook his head back and forth slowly. No. Owain wondered if it was because he doubted their ability to keep it a secret from Severa. She did have a tendency of snooping. She knew everything. He suspected she knew more about Inigo's feelings than he did himself. But Inigo didn't say as much, and instead he asked in a calm hush, “Owain, why didn't you just marry someone you _wanted_ to marry? Wouldn't that have been so much easier? You deserved to marry someone you loved.”

Owain wished he had a better answer for that question than he did. It was just too complicated. But words failed him in any case. He found himself staring at Inigo for too many seconds. He was watching the way the light cut through the hedges and highlighted bits of his skin, and he was watching worry taint his eyes. He stared at his lips and he hardly put any thought into it when he leaned closer. Inigo leaned closer too, Owain noticed. Did he still think Owain was planning to whisper something? He wasn't. He had every intention to kiss him. Their noses brushed, and Owain hesitated for just a second to make sure that brush was a little closer to a nuzzle. It was a silent, but fair (he thought) warning of what was to come. Inigo's eyes widened just slightly, just a hair, but then they relaxed shut, and Owain closed his own, and...

“ _Owain?_ Inigo! Where are you idiots at? There's a council meeting starting without us!”

The sound of Severa's voice had Owain jolting back away from Inigo, leaving both of them very much kiss-less. Inigo's blush was hard to ignore, and Owain was sure his face was red from the shock of being interrupted mid-attempted-kiss. He cleared his throat once but that wasn't honestly enough. He couldn't find words right away. He looked around like he worried Severa was _in the maze_ , but he knew that she was outside of it. It took a few seconds to gather himself, but when he did he decided to answer the question he had been asked fair and square. “The pressure to have a wife...and the inevitable pressure to have an heir... was too great to ignore... Even in the pursuit of true and unfettered love.”

He took a step back from Inigo, and then he began to walk in the direction they came. In the direction of the exit of the maze, and of Severa, and of the council meeting he could hardly care less about. Inigo followed him hesitantly.

 

…

 

Was that it?

Inigo looked at the form of Owain walking back towards Severa, towards the exit of the maze. He called out to her, said they were coming, and Inigo was reeling. How could Owain sound so composed? Was he really such a great actor? Inigo needed to take lessons. His heart was thumping in his chest and his palms were sweating enough that he wiped them on his shirt.

He thought that Owain was just going to whisper something, he thought he was talking quietly, but their noses had touched and... Well it was more than that. Owain was going to do more than that. More than whispering in the quiet hedges. More than just telling him a secret. Inigo _was_ the secret, wasn't he? His head was spinning but he had no trouble jumping to the only real conclusion:

“You were going to kiss me.”

He said it out loud, and honestly he hadn't meant to. He meant to just have that epiphany in his own mind, where it was safe and he was sure there was no risk of being wrong. Owain stopped walking away and turned to look over his shoulder, and his eyes met Inigo's. Inigo wanted to remember that look forever. He was blushing again and Inigo liked that. He liked to see Owain blush—he honestly daydreamed about making that man fall apart at the seams. There was so much he wanted to say, and to do, and often those fantasies began with just one little blush. But enough about that...

Owain was going to kiss him, and here he stood not even denying it. He wasn't defending himself, or making excuses, there was no doubt! Owain was _going_ to kiss him. He didn't marry someone he loved because Inigo could not have possibly provided a biological heir for Ylisse, and so Owain sacrificed himself. He sacrificed Cynthia. He sacrificed Inigo. All three of them, their feelings put aside so that the Halidom could feel safe. Their hopes and their dreams didn't matter in the face of the greater whole. It was stupid. It was excellent—a selfless and great thing for a ruler to do... but it was stupid. Inigo didn't want to be sacrificed. He wanted to be indulged.

He took fast strides to catch up to Owain. Or was he running? Inigo wasn't sure. He was only honestly sure of what he was doing when he felt the palms of both of his hands holding Owain's face. He could feel the heat from Owain's blush under his thumbs, but he didn't make a joke about it. Not now! How could he? This was urgent! This might be a once-in-his-whole-life chance! There was no time for small talk or hesitation! He kissed him.

He kissed the Exalt and it was better than any kiss in his entire life. It was better than any fair maiden and better than any drunken affair. It was better than anything he'd ever hoped for. It was the sort of kiss that bards sang of. There was fire and energy and magic. There was desperation and anxiety and relief and _Owain's hands in his hair_. There was Owain's awkward chuckle when their lips stuck together momentarily when they pulled apart, and Inigo found his voice again. His real voice—his confident voice that had been gone for so long, since Owain was first engaged...because he must have been right. Owain wouldn't have returned that kiss so enthusiastically if he hadn't intended for it to happen in the first place.

Owain _wanted him_. Inigo's feelings were _not_ for nothing. Owain shared them, he cared, he... Well he had made a hefty sacrifice. The weight of the country was on his shoulders. The weight of future generations, and of the success of his kingdom. Inigo's feelings were not for nothing... but Owain's sacrifices would not be either.

So Inigo slid his hands down to Owain's neck and moved to place a teensy kiss on the shell of his ear, (and he was pleased to see it made the Exalt shudder) and he _purred_ out the words “Your secret is safe with me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean granted it's an affair but as long as no one gets caught it hardly matters right??? Ninja affair.


	8. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The months following Owain's return are filled with Severa snooping to no avail. Also Karma strikes.

Olivia had never been anything but proud of her son. He grew up strong, and handsome, and he even developed her love for dancing. She could remember a time when Inigo was just a toddler, twisting on his toes to mimic her movements. Olivia thought it was adorable, and taught him how to pirouette and how to elevé. Henry never discouraged it, and always humored Inigo by watching the two of them perform together in the sitting room of their little home.

Of course Olivia knew her memories were not the same as Inigo's. Her memories were of the boy she raised from the time he was a child to the time he was a teenager. Then her memories grew fuzzy. Her son abruptly vanished from them. He was gone.

She could remember the day that the other children returned home very clearly. She could also remember a time in her past where she met a handsome young man claiming to be her son—and she believed beyond a shadow of a doubt it truly was Inigo. She could, worst of all, remember the heartache that came with the realization that her son was not among the children who returned from the past.

Inigo, Severa, and Owain... the three of them did not return with the rest of the children. The others had no real explanation for it, their best guesses being that they had died. They had taken a mission and never returned. Olivia and Henry mourned for their son, who disappeared from the world in an effort to ensure they never would.

The day Inigo came back Olivia's heart sang. Nearly half a year ago, now, she could remember the distinct look on his face when he was hiding in those shrubs, spying on her. She had never wanted anything in the world more than she wanted to see her son again. He had grown so much!

Inigo was an adult now. Not a goofy teenager—but a no-less-goofy man. He had matured it seemed. A war in a world that Olivia had never even heard of outside of fantasies and fairy tales, that was where Inigo and his friends claimed to have been... and Olivia believed him. She had to, because she could see in Inigo's eyes that he had seen death and loss. She hoped he would never have to see that again.

Every week Inigo walked through the market with Olivia. She picked out fresh fruits and vegetables and bread, and anything else she needed. Inigo sometimes carried it, and sometimes he was too busy waving his arms to tell a story. She loved to hear the stories.

On this particular week, Olivia was amazed to see him doing something entirely new. He wasn't telling a story or recounting a dangerous tale he went on. He wasn't even bragging about how popular he was with the ladies of Nohr (a tale which Olivia wondered about the validity of).

This week Inigo was humming...and not for the first time.

Inigo had a singing voice that rivaled Olivia's—although she'd often been told she was the most talented singer among the Shepherds. Inigo's voice was distinctly sweet. A glossy, rich tone with good range. He was a beautiful singer. Almost as beautiful as his dancing.

Olivia only ever heard Inigo sing when he was dancing alone—just a tune to himself to go with the movements he made. He didn't sing on just any occasion. Humming was also a rarity... she'd never known her son to hum.

There was more to it than the humming. For weeks now, Olivia had watched Inigo crumble. His attitude, his stance, the way he spoke... everything about him lacked confidence and luster. She had no idea what had caused it, of course. She assumed that if he wanted to share, he would have by now. But he had clearly given up on something he'd cared very much about. Now he was humming, and had been the last couple of times they'd come into the market. He was humming, and his smile was bright. His skin seemed lighter—he was _happy_. Too happy for it to go unnoticed.

It was just as they had finished their errands. That was when Olivia decided to strike. She waited until the bustle of the market was a little distance behind them, and they were on the path back to her home. “Inigo?”

“Mmhmm?” He asked her, hardly breaking his tune but acknowledging her none the less. Olivia smiled and wished honestly that she didn't have to accuse him of this... but she had to know. Or, at least, she wanted to!

“You're in love, aren't you?”

She covered her mouth with one hand and tried to hide her fit of giggles at the reaction she got. Inigo not only stopped humming, but he stuttered. He flapped his lips and fished for the word he wanted, and it seemed like just as he found it those darn words slipped right out of his hands. Eventually he was blushing bright red and looking anywhere but at her. He said “Absolutely not! What would give you that idea?”

Olivia giggled again, and wondered if his cheeks hurt. They were very red. Still, she wasn't going to pester him too much about it. “You don't have to tell me. But you're horrible at hiding it. I can see it in the way that you walk—and in the way that you dance, lately.” Yes, even that was changing. Inigo sometimes came to practice with his mother. She wasn't sure why, but he said he wanted her to teach him the end of a dance. She was sure that she'd taught him that dance when he was very young. She wondered if their memories overlapped, there, but then took a different path. Since that day they had been working on that routine... but lately he had much more energy. His steps had more passion. He was no longer dancing for himself... he was dancing for _someone else_.

Inigo shook his head. Violently, Olivia thought. “Mother! You're embarrassing me!” He practically whimpered, and she wondered why it was such a secret. What sort of relationship would _her son_ deny? He bragged about his lady friends more than anyone she'd ever heard of! Which lead her to the thought, a thought she'd had once or twice before, that perhaps it wasn't a lady friend.

“Inigo?”

“Yes, mother?”

“Please, be very careful with your heart.”

After that, Olivia didn't ask him about who he was in love with again. Inigo never told her, either. She didn't mind... she was happy enough just to see him smile so bright.

 

…

 

Two months after Owain's return Severa was still unsure what to do about her friends. She could see that nothing had changed between them. Or, that was to say, she _thought_ nothing had changed between them. Inigo had said nothing on the subject, and she couldn't imagine he would start keeping secrets now... he had always so openly whined at her about Owain before.

Still, that didn't change the fact that Inigo seemed happier lately. Not obscenely happy, that she had noticed, but... well he certainly seemed to be back to his old self again. For the most part. Now and then she noticed him send a wistful glance in the direction of Cynthia and Owain when they walked together. She wondered if he was bitter towards Cynthia, or simply envious?

She probably wouldn't have mentioned it that day if not for the fact that Inigo was stalking her again. He had managed to bump into her at the market, and this time she couldn't help herself—she finally bought that scent of perfume she had been wanting for so long. Inigo hadn't liked it. That was even better, in Severa's opinion... maybe he would stay out of her space bubble more often. Alas, once they had met up in the market, Inigo stayed by her side while she browsed the goods.

His punishment for that, she decided, would be to answer her questions. “Why are you so happy all the time, lately?”

“Happy? I don't recall saying I was happy. What would give you that idea?” Inigo asked, taking a _disgustingly_ flirtatious tone with her. The worst part was that every now and then, despite how much she hated to admit it, even she got a little giddy from the effect of his words. Not today, however.

“You keep smiling. All the time. It's more annoying than usual.” Severa argued with him. She waited for him to explain. She hoped—deep down—that he would say that he and Owain had sorted things out. She didn't know how they could do it, but perhaps they could make their love work? Of course she didn't want to care that badly about it.

Not surprisingly, Inigo denied her argument. “Smiling? No—I've never smiled once. Not in my whole life.”

Now he was just teasing her, and Severa hated that. “If I guess what's going on, will you tell me?”

“No.”

“Ha! So you admit something is going on?”

“No.” Inigo chuckled at her. “Milady, I'm not sure I follow you. You're... suspicious that my smiling may be part of an elaborate scheme? Aren't I entitled to have a good day, too?”

“No!” Severa groaned. She didn't even bother to clarify what part of his statement she was saying no to. “Why won't you tell me? You're keeping a secret!”

“I made a vow.” Inigo shrugged.

A vow. That was a suspiciously Owain-y word. Severa's eyes narrowed, and she pulled down on Inigo by his shirt collar. “Bleck! A vow of _love..?”_ She asked. She needed to know! She was spending way more time than she considered to be acceptable worrying over the state of her best friends. Best friends! In the world! It disgusted her!

“Ha!” Inigo's laugh rang in her ears, and he said “I make a vow to you now, Severa, a vow of love. I love... to baffle you. That look on your face is quite amusing.”

Severa punched him in the shoulder. “I hate you.”

 

…

 

 

Owain was the weaker of the two. He had to be, because Severa had spent the last month trying her damndest to get Inigo to tell her what was going on, and he had denied there being something to tell for far too long. If something really _was_ going on, then Severa would get it out of Owain. She had devised an entire plan: She would get him (relatively) alone, accuse him of being unloyal to Cynthia, and wait for him to tell her all the juicy details of his relationship with—well--with whoever he was _in_ a relationship with.

It was stupid that it was taking her this long to solve a mystery that revolved around _them_. Severa could have sworn that in Nohr she had much better control over them. They were on a much shorter leash, granted, but she could easily pull them in and force them to do just about anything. In a good way. Severa manipulated people often... but rarely those two. Or, at least, rarely manipulated them for personal gain.

They were in the armory. There was just one guard near the door, but he seemed to be dozing on his feet. Severa couldn't imagine a more boring job anyway: guarding the door to a room of junk. Now and then someone needed to inspect and polish the weapons, and Chrom rarely asked Sumia (his _own retainer_ ) to do it. She was always training new recruits, however, so she supposed that was fair. Inigo had been forced to do it last time, so it was rightfully her turn. Inigo had, however, managed to slip off with Henry for the moment, and so someone had to entertain Owain as well. Entertain being nothing short of the right word. He didn't _need_ protection.

The long standing debate with the council had landed almost perfectly where Owain had aimed. They were going to allow him to carry a weapon—so long as he also carried a healing device. Owain still wasn't talented with it. He could use a heal staff to stop bleeding, but thus far he hadn't managed to mend skin back together with it yet. In any case, he was well acquainted by this point in his life with the process of caring for a wound. Even without magic he could easily bandage or even stitch a wound if he had the materials. In spite of his lackluster performance with the staves, they had decided to have a (mostly decorative) staff commissioned, which he could carry with him. The idea was that the eyes of the people would be drawn to the staff in his hand—not the sword at his side. Owain didn't mind, even if it was just a glorified walking stick.

Needless to say, once he was allowed to carry a sword he really wouldn't have a need for retainers, but that was just Severa's opinion. Owain was never at risk anyway, there were no signs of trouble that Severa had heard of, at least not outside of a few minor incidents at their northern border. In any case, she still brought Owain with her to clean the weapons.

It was the best decision she'd made in her life. For whatever reason, Owain actually enjoyed the task. He cared for the weapons as if they were children, and without any sort of embarrassment, it seemed, he spoke to them in a way that Severa often considered to be _way too intimate_. Even for him.

This being the case, Severa was free to wander around and neglect most of her own duties while Owain did them for her. It was how she decided to implement her plan. She approached Owain while he was wiping down a sword and whispering sweet sword-y nothings to it, and she picked up another blade to apply oil to. This chore was fun when Owain did it for her, and it was tedious when alone. When she was here with Owain, and he was being so downright sexual with the weapons, it just made her feel a little weird about touching them. She pushed those thoughts aside though. She had known for years that Owain had a weird relationship with inanimate objects. She was more interested in his relationship with Cynthia. Once she knew if he was actually in love with her... well she would better know if Inigo was smiling because he was hiding something or smiling to cover up scars that were healing. “So, Owain, mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Not at all! Ask me anything, Severa the Moonborn, and I will search the stars for the answers.” Severa rolled her eyes. Owain was back to his old self too, she supposed. For a while his antics had vanished. She didn't blame that on Inigo. It was probably the stress of everything in his life coming to a head at once. She was sort of glad to hear him act like an idiot, again.

“Do you love your wife?”

She could hear a shift and a snort from the man guarding the door. The sort of snort you made when you realized you had fallen asleep on your feet and had to stand up quickly or collapse. She didn't imagine that he had heard her question at all, but she could see that Owain was concerned. In fact, she could see disbelief and worry cross his face pretty clearly.

“Severa! Of course I do— _don't shout_!” The last part of his words came out in a hiss of a whisper, and Severa didn't even argue that she had hardly spoken any louder than he had. But she felt a wicked smile on her lips. This was it—she was sure. He was going to spill the beans that Inigo had been hiding. She had a feeling, deep in her gut. That feeling was that Inigo and Owain were seeing each other behind the scenes. The only problem was that Severa's quarters were literally right down the hall from Inigo's... and she had never caught him sneaking around. Not once. She would figure it out. Once Owain admitted to not loving Cynthia, Severa was absolutely sure of it.

“Cynthia deserves someone who loves her, you know! She fought in that war just like the rest of us.” Actually Severa did believe that. Cynthia deserved to be happy. Not just because she fought in a war, of course, but because she had so recently lost the person who actually _did_ make her happy. It seemed cruel to force them together. That said, Severa counted her blessings. If they had passed over Cynthia, they may very well have landed on her. Cordelia was the next most respected knight they had, and Severa was the right age. She wouldn't lie—being a princess was every little girl's dream... but marrying Owain? Ha—she would have probably died on the spot.

Cynthia and Owain were very good at [probably] faking a relationship. They were always bubbly and smiling together, and he kept his arm around her waist without hesitation. They went to events together and even without prompting held hands. He kissed her hand or forehead often enough, and she had seen him even kiss her lips a few times. They looked to be very in love. Which was why Severa had just a shadow of doubt in her mind.

“I'm not—I never—Where is this coming from!?” Owain seemed quite flustered by her comments. He must have truly not expected to be interrogated, and he kept looking over his shoulder towards the dozing guard. He put away the sword and picked up a spear, and he didn't even whisper words of love to it while he began to polish it.

“Oh—I, uh.” Severa nearly forgot her lies, lies she had formed in her head. Why was it so hard to lie to Owain? He had to be lying to her, right? It was only fair. “I've just heard rumors around the castle is all. Some of the help thinks you may be putting on an elaborate show.”

Owain looked very uncomfortable. Severa _almost_ felt bad for putting that look on his face. His brows knit together and his eyes drifted down to the floor. She didn't feel bad, though. She felt confident. That was, until Owain opened his mouth again. “I would trust my retainer not to spread those sort of rumors.” He began, and then he sighed and looked back at her. Right in the eyes. Unwavering. “I love Cynthia. She's the greatest wife I could have asked for—and I would do anything to keep her happy.”

Why did he have to look so genuine? Severa hated it. She hated that he didn't say he wanted to love Inigo. She hated that she was even more doubtful now than she had been before. She hated to think that Inigo was smiling because he was moving on from the love he had no chance of obtaining.

 

…

 

“You gave him a note?”

Cynthia asked the question from her spot on their bed. A bed with plenty of room on it for an army, let alone two people, but they still had woken up cuddling a few times. It wasn't even embarrassing anymore. Cynthia had quickly stepped into the spot of Owain's most trusted friend... and he wasn't worried that she would think him odd for hugging her in the night.

His relationship with Cynthia was not even complicated. He loved her dearly. He could tell her anything, and she'd always encouraged him to chase after his love life, in spite of the complications or concerns. They stayed up at night whispering about it some times, and when he was feeling down she always lifted him back up. He only wished he could be half the person she was, and carry her through her own needs as well.

They had been keeping up this secret for four or five months now, Owain was sure. It wasn't a hard illusion to keep up, that he was in love wit h his wife. That was easy and obvious. It was far harder to make time for Inigo in private, where the two could be open and Owain could pour affection onto him to make up for all of the lacking. They rarely snuck around.... it was only when they stumbled upon finding themselves alone that Owain could indulge in secret kisses. It was... far less often than one might think. Still, the thrill of the secret perhaps made the fire between them burn hotter.

“What did it say?”

Owain took a seat on the side of the bed, watching Cynthia eyeball him cautiously. Obviously she was suspicious, because the first note had done nothing more than give Inigo a hefty case of anxiousness. Owain was sure this note was not one to be mistaken for bad news. “The darkest heart may speak the loudest volumes when the moon is high over the water,and words are lost in the depth of an endless labyrinth.” He answered, but her frown only deepened. “What?”

“He's probably not going to know what that means.” She shrugged. “I guess I get that you don't want anyone else to read it and know what it is, but don't you think maybe it was a little _too_ complex? Couldn't you have just asked him to meet you out loud?”

Owain thought she was absolutely wrong. Inigo would have no trouble understanding the words of the man that he loved. Or, Owain supposed he assumed that much. Inigo hadn't really said it out loud. Nor had Owain—an issue that he planned to rectify when they met in the hedge maze that night. “He'll know.”

“So you're going to tell him tonight? Or you're going to give him that thing?” Cynthia asked, and she reached out and pulled a pillow close to herself to hug it.

“Er—that depends on what you think I have to tell.” He admitted. Then he shrugged and said “I think I'll tell him everything. I want to make sure we're on the same page.”

“So you're _for sure_ going to tell him that you're in love with him? Make it official! Ask for his heart, and give him his gift! I can't wait! You two have been _dancing_ around the subject for too long!”

Owain found it in him to chuckle, a light sound that he made before he spoke up. “I suspect you've been planning that pun all day?”

“Just about! So? You're going to tell me what he says, right? I want to know if he likes it! I've been watching him, I think he's going to love it. He's definitely in love with you, too.”

Owain couldn't ask for a better wife. Cynthia honestly had become his strength in all of this. She wiped his doubts clean and gave him strength, and courage... and he thought that was probably the most odd behavior, in this situation, for a wife to have. “I would venture to guess that most queens—and _especially_ those expecting babes, may be less thrilled to hear of their husbands love affairs with another man.”

Cynthia stuck out her tongue in exchange. “This isn't about me!” She wasn't wrong. This was about Inigo, and the list of things Owain needed to tell him. Among words of love, he also needed Inigo to be the first to know that Cynthia was expecting. They hadn't shared that information with anyone yet—just for this reason. Cynthia thought it was for the best, and so did Owain. It was great news! It took a weight (and a task) off of their shoulders, and it meant that perhaps the next exalt would come to be soon enough. It was even better that it happen early. Cynthia pulled her tongue back into her mouth, and she said “This is actually about your cryptic note and potential boyfriend.”

Owain's smile faltered. “Er—don't say boyfriend. That makes it sound like we're children.” He wasn't a child. They were adults, and making adult decisions. This was more than just a 'boyfriend'.

“Oh? Okay, should I say mistress? Concubine? Oh! I like that: Concubine. I'll say that.”

“No! Neither of those!” Those were embarrassing! Owain didn't like those words either.

Cynthia rolled her eyes openly and asked “Okay, well then what?”

Owain wished he had an answer, but he honestly and truly did not. “G-Go back to boyfriend. For now. If he even—Ugh!” His face felt warm and he knew that somehow, Cynthia had bested him. He felt like he had been had.

That feeling doubled when Cynthia gasped and asked "Oh no, is the great Owain, Exalt of Divine Darkness, getting a little flustered?"

 

..

 

Inigo was already waiting for Owain at the center of the hedge maze when Owain made his way there. He was dancing in the light the moon had cast down, and it reflected off of him while he turned and swayed. It only took a few more seconds, a precious handful, before he noticed Owain watching him. Too few seconds to see something so rare and lovely, in Owain's opinion. “Is it still embarrassing for someone to watch you?” He found himself asking.

Inigo nodded his head, and took a few steps closer to Owain. It was quiet here. Lightning bugs and the sound of the fountain trickling made it less than silent, but it certainly felt quieter than during the day time. “Horribly embarrassing! My mother has been working with me, so not as mortifying as it once was... I suppose.”

Inigo was far too good for Owain. The Exalt thought so every day of his life, but somehow fate had guided them to walk the same path and he was not about to complain about it.

“...So why did you ask me here?” Inigo asked. Owain supposed that was a fair and good question. He took the initiative to step closer to Inigo, until their fingers were intertwined and their bodies had little space between them.

“It may not come as a shock to you, but you have had a powerful hold on me. I thought the ache in my blood plagued me, but now the aching in my heart when we are apart is far worse—er...” Owain stopped himself when Inigo placed a finger on his lips. He wasn't offended. His words got interrupted all the time—he simply had more words to say than most people could or would tolerate. And yet Inigo had never truly asked him to stop. He watched Inigo smile at him, and then smooth as molasses he said,

“Owain... my heart has been caged since the day I learned you were to be wed. Am I to believe you've asked me here to set it free?”

Owain kissed the finger that laid against his lips, but after that he found it in him to chuckle at the mercenary standing in front of him. “You're getting pretty good at this.” He admitted. When Inigo first took up talking like Owain, he had always done so to mock him. Lately he did it to flirt. It was a welcome change—even if it occasionally did cause Owain a dose of second-hand embarrassment.

Inigo nodded his head. “I daresay that I may be better than you. For your sake I won't steal all of your flair.”

Inigo might have said something else, but before they could be distracted fully Owain wanted to finish his thought process. They were on this subject with good reason. “What I mean to say is that I am in love with you.”

He had more to say. He had to tell him about Cynthia, he had to give him a gift, but everything came to a stop a mere moment after those words left his lips, because Inigo stepped the last step of distance between them and kissed him. It was a feeling he would never get used to, he thought. When Inigo kissed him he always did so with such fervor that Owain was sure he was more desirable than any other man the world had to offer. Even now reality was drifting further and further from Owain. Inigo was warm when the rest of the night around them had a chill to it. It was no wonder that he got lost in those kisses. He had only just noticed Inigo's hands on his hips when the other pulled them closer to his own.

Owain hated to interrupt an action like that—because he liked the direction this was going... but he had something else planned for this evening. Inigo kissed his neck, and Owain whispered “Wait—I--I wasn't done.”

Inigo waited, and Owain would give him that. He might not give him scores for waiting patiently, however. He took a step back from Owain and tugged on his sleeves and asked. “What is it?”

Inigo was perfect. Owain thought so every time he saw him. He was so patient. He cared for Owain in spite of the fact that he was such a complicated mess. In spite of everything wrong with him, really. It made him happy. He reached out his hand and took Inigo's—from there he gently pushed the sleeve up higher on his retainer's wrist. After dipping his hand into his pocket he retrieved a bracelet, which he clasped around Inigo's wrist.

It was fairly simple. In a good way! It was braided gold, with no gemstones. Inigo blushed when it was placed on him, and pulled his wrist closer to his face to admire it. “Er—this is beautiful, but... what is it for?”

Owain took the opportunity to chuckle. “I had it commissioned for you... so that you never forget that what I feel for you is real—even if it has to be kept secret for now.” He watched Inigo blush and tug his sleeve back down to cover the bracelet, and Owain added in more of a hush than he meant to “I promise it won't be a secret forever.”

Inigo lifted his arms around Owain's shoulders and hugged him tight,and Owain felt his lips brush past his ear when Inigo whispered “You're turning out to be quite the romantic, aren't you?” Owain turned his head to the side and tried to kiss Inigo's head—instead he only managed to kiss his bangs. Inigo kissed his neck again—and gods above Owain wished he didn't have more to say. He would much rather have let Inigo kiss him until he was weak in the knees. He lifted his hand and pushed his fingers through Inigo's hair, but instead of moving on to something more intimate, he just rested his cheek against Inigo's head.

“One other thing...”

“Oh? It sounds like you may be making excuses. Are you sure you haven't swooned? I'll sweep you off your feet.” Inigo offered. Owain wanted to take him up on that. Instead he shook his head no.

He expected Inigo to be bothered by what he had to say. “You should know—that is to say I want you to know first—Cynthia is pregnant.” He expected Inigo to have his fair share of concerns or frustrations. It wasn't every day that someone you loved had a child with someone else, after all. Inigo stepped back and out of his arms, and Owain braced himself for the worst.

Instead Inigo flashed him a giant grin. “Already!? My father hasn't even mentioned it! I haven't heard the council begin to pressure you into children yet. You two _sure are_ on top of things, aren't you?” He didn't look upset at all, and that was both a relief and actually a concern. Inigo was allowed to be bothered by it, even if he saw the good in it. Still... he rolled his eyes and blushed a calm hue of pink.

“It's _good_ that it happened before they could ask us. They might have more faith in our marriage this way, they'll be more likely to believe it was an act of love.”

Inigo seemed hesitant to ask, but he did anyway when he said “As opposed to..?”

Honestly Owain and Cynthia had been working at having a child since day one. The sooner it happened the sooner they could stop, after all. It was a fairly mutual feeling. “As opposed... to an act of necessity? With luck it will be as strong as Cynthia and inherit the brand. With less pressure on us, maybe we can get back to being ourselves, and doing what we love.”

Owain watched Inigo shake his head side to side slowly, and he listened to him chuckle under his breath, but he was still concerned. He knew that he had given Inigo a token to show him how much he loved him... but he had still expected him to be a little less than happy about this situation. “You're... taking this much better than I imagined.”

“What? Did you think I didn't know this was coming? If you didn't need children you wouldn't have married Cynthia, right? I knew this was the goal—I just didn't realize you two were _racing there_.”

It certainly put a blush on Owain's nose. “Don't say it like that! We—I--It's”

“I know.” Inigo waved his hand dismissively, and added “Don't explain yourself, I know where babies come from. Do you think your child will think you're a hero, or an embarrassment? Probably a little of both—that's how I think of you, anyway.” He grinned at him, and leaned forward to flick Owain on the nose. “I think this is exciting. Actually, and I can't believe I'm saying this, I think you'll be an incredible father.”

Owain was skeptical about _that_ detail. “Gods know I have next to no knowledge on the subject.”

“Be that as it may, I hear it comes naturally to most. And if there is anything I have learned from my time serving under Lord Xander, it is that 'retainer' is often synonymous with 'babysitter'. I may have spent more time with Lady Elise than I ever spent with the high prince. You won't have to go it alone—so smile for me.”

Owain shrugged off the words. He wasn't too concerned about that yet. He had plenty of time to prepare himself for parenting. Inigo stepped into his arms again, and for a long time they stood in silence. Owain held his arms around Inigo's shoulders, and the other laid his head down to rest in the crook of his neck. Eventually Inigo spoke up again. “I may be a little jealous.” He admitted. Owain actually smiled, but luckily that wasn't a smile Inigo could see. It had been somewhat obvious, after all, that Inigo was hiding some amount of discomfort. He took in a breath and opened his mouth, but Inigo hushed him. “Shh... not too jealous. No need to reassure me—I'll be alright. Just... stay with me.”

Owain wasn't at all surprised. He hadn't been surprised that Inigo disliked the wedding either. It wasn't fair to stand on the outside while the person you loved built a family. It made sense for him to be bothered. Owain just hoped Inigo really did see the good in this. This was the last piece of the puzzle: this was the reassurance that Ylisse needed in order to feel whole again. Owain would just make sure that Inigo never forgot that he was the one who made him feel whole.

 

…

 

How had this happened? How had Severa allowed so much time to pass without understanding what was going on? Owain was stupid and boisterous as ever, and Inigo was clearly not in any form of heartbreak. In fact, she was midway through shoving him away from her when the thought struck her. “Get off of me! Gods! Don't flirt with me—it's weird!”

A thought struck her and a revelation entered her mind. Owain was happy. Inigo was happy. That was obvious. Yet... somehow, she had forgotten to take into account one thing: Cynthia was happy! She was cheerful and bright and never once acted miserable.

People who got married by force weren't that happy that fast. There was just no way! They would have gone through a phase of denial, and frustration, and they certainly wouldn't have been well on the road to having a child. No, she realized.

She had been fooled the whole time—the same as everyone else. She gasped and pointed at Inigo—who raised a suspicious eyebrow at her. “You!”

“Mhmm? You've broken my heart, Severa, I can hardly stand to look at you. What will I do without your sweet voice?” He asked, but he was disappointed when she didn't make a disgusted face. “Er—Severa? You're looking a mite... angry.”

“Yes! Your face is the color of an angry sun. What happened to cause such a travesty?” Owain asked, and Severa wanted to punch him in the stupid face. They had tricked her, but she wasn't going to buy into it a second longer.

“You two are having an affair! I knew you were too happy to be normal!” Owain looked around. Inigo looked away from Severa. Eventually their eyes glanced at _each other_.... and both of them broke into a small fit of laughter.

“I told you!” Inigo said between his laughs. “She knows everything!”

Severa was almost shocked. They had _really_ hidden this from her. For this long! How could they have done that? They were _idiots_! “Wh—You actually _are?_ When were you planning to tell _me_?” She asked, and she crossed her arms—likely to stop herself from lashing out.

“We couldn't tell _anyone_ , Sev.” Inigo answered quietly. “Cynthia is the only other person who knows—this can't get out to the public yet.”

They looked so sincere. Severa hated it. How dare they? She knew everything that went on inside this castle, and this had gotten past her? It was outrageous! That genuine look in Owain's eyes was the last straw—she took a step forward and punched them. Both of them. In the shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Hey!”

“I am not ANYONE! I hate secrets! Do you know how _worried_ I was about you two and your stupid delicate hearts?!? And you were fine! This whole time! I have wasted _so much time_!” She wanted to scream. She wasn't this way for anyone else. Those two were the people she cared about most. She loved her parents, of course, but things were different. It was hard to grasp that they were her 'real parents', when they didn't share the same past. The only people she trusted with everything were Inigo and Owain. The feeling, she thought, should have been mutual.

“Don't say that. Your encouragement helped me leaps and bounds, Severa.” Inigo spoke softly, and Severa hated that she could hear guilt lining his voice. He knew he had hurt her feelings. She was mostly just mad she had feelings on the subject at all.

“We knew you would figure it out eventually, anyway. Why else would we have smiled? We wanted you to figure this out—we just didn't want to break the silence and tell you outright!”

Owain made sense, she supposed, but it didn't sting any less. She groaned at them. She _should_ have figured it out way sooner than this. “Yes, I would have figured it out. I was going to ask about that dumb bracelet Inigo's been hiding today anyway. I don't need to anymore—it's an engagement token, isn't it?”

“Er--”

She watched with a sense of pride as a blush blossomed across Inigo's face. He shifted from one foot to another. “Engagement is a strong word, really.”

“It's the right word.” Severa grumbled. “I'm so mad! I need to buy something. I'm taking the rest of the day off.” She started to leave, and Inigo reached out for her. Instead of letting him take her wrist, she pointed at him, and then at Owain. “When I see you idiots in the morning you had better be prepared to spill _everything_. No more secrets. Ever.”

“Wait!” Owain called, and he followed behind Severa as she very purposely walked away. “Severa, I'm sorry—this was an isolated incident.”

“Nope.” Severa didn't even look at him as she shooed him away with one hand. “Too mad for apologies. Gotta shop. Try again in the morning.”

“No, please don't walk away.” Inigo's stupid voice made her stop, and she huffed and turned to face them.

“What?”

“Honestly, this wasn't something we wanted to keep from you. It's just...”

“I get it Inigo. The Halidom blah blah. Fine. I'm still mad. I'll get over it.”

“But can't we fix it?”

Severa was about to say no. Part of her wanted the satisfaction of their faces wrought with guilt. The other part of her—the more rational part—told her that they were right. They couldn't have told her, it was a liability. So she came up with a bright idea then and there. “Actually... yes. I'm angry, so I have to take the day off, but... well today was actually the day I told my mother I would clean the stables out.”

Oh. She loved it. The look that crossed their faces when they realized what she was saying... well she hardly had to finish her sentence.

“If a certain pair of idiots clean out all that shit for me..? Well I would be hard pressed not to forgive them.” She turned on her heel and left them, not allowing them the chance to negotiate further. No, she wanted them to do it. It was sweet revenge. The Exalt and his precious lover knee deep in Pegasus dung? It was their punishment. She only wished she would have a chance to see it... but she would be far too busy trying on new clothes.

Severa hated secrets...but she loved karma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually like the longest chapter but it felt short since it's all over the place. Don't mind me I'm not trying to make time pass or anything haha this is all an illusion. Also typos? Why so many? Hit refresh I think I got most of them


	9. Paralogue 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoops it seems we have a new recruit

It had been the end of spring when Severa found out about Owain and Inigo's hidden affair, and honestly making it up to her had been a challenge. She played her cards with their guilt.... but Inigo didn't blame her, and he was glad that the air between the three of them was free and clear now. He really hated to keep secrets in general, but especially from someone he trusted so much as she. Now the summer was at it's climax, when the seasons' next shift was not too far away and the sun must have felt obligated to shine the brightest just before the fall arrived. Inigo never truly minded the summer. He would admit that, especially with the more modest clothes he tended to wear, fall or spring were best suited to him... but he was born in the summer, and something about it always energized him... even if he had to fold up the sleeves of his clothes to his elbows, oftentimes.

The summer was a good time for vegetables. Granted the spring offered a nice array too, the summer always provided them when they were the most plump and ready to be eaten. Not to mention some cool treats came out in the summer time (when ice was, of course, the most expensive). Inigo knew the market was no less bustling than usual, if not even more so. He was walking with his mother as he often did, and he had offered her his arm because on this particular day people were everywhere. He imagined it was because the sudden rains they had the previous day or two... well honestly Inigo wouldn't have wanted to go to the market when it was pouring either. Olivia had quite easily put her arm through his, and everything seemed as normal as ever.

That was until a woman with dark hair in a braid down her back and peasant clothes practically leaped to step in front of Inigo. He was startled when she did, but managed not to walk into her. Even more startled was his mother—who gasped quietly and took a step back. “Oh my...”

She was a beautiful woman, to say the least. Alluring even in those clothes. She was also vaguely familiar, although Inigo couldn't quite place her. Maybe she was a shoppe owner? He looked her over again. She had bags under her eyes—the only thing interrupting her otherwise perfect beauty—but a glance at what she was holding explained that: She had a newborn child with her.

Poor woman likely didn't sleep a wink. Luckily Inigo imagined with time sleep would find her again, and she would be lovely as ever. He dipped his head to the side and willed a smile for her, in spite of how she had practically run them down. “Pardon us, milady!” He tried. Although it was entirely her fault that they had nearly collided, he assumed she was in a rush—and dealing with a child no less—and distracted.

He might have been wrong.

“Oh! Good! Is this your wife?” She asked. Her voice sounded nervous. Panicky. Inigo couldn't explain why, because she didn't look nervous in the slightest. He shook his head no, and his mother piped up in an instant.

“Goodness no!” Olivia answered, and she slid her arm out of Inigo's.

Inigo didn't think _that_ action was entirely necessary... but he didn't lie. He once more turned to smile at the mystery woman and said “My lady, I am flattered beyond measure that you think I am worthy of such a beautiful woman, but this lovely lady is actually my mo--”

“I don't care. Take this.”

Initially Inigo's biggest problem with her comment was that she interrupted him. The words 'take this' ultimately ended up being the biggest issue. She reached out and dropped the bundled up babe in his arms before he even had time to catch her properly. He scrambled to adjust his hold on the infant. How were you supposed to hold these again? He'd held maybe two babies in his entire life. He made sure the baby's head a was cradled in the crook of his elbow (they couldn't hold up those on their own, right?) but he also spoke up. “I—I'm sorry, are you alright? Why—What is the meaning of..?”

“It's yours. You don't remember me, do you? We met at the party, after the royal wedding. I'm not surprised you can't remember—I've never met a man in my life half as drunk as you were.”

Inigo winced visibly. Yes, that had been a horrible night for him, but... well he would think he should have remembered being _this_ irresponsible. He shook his head slowly, he opened his mouth, but she backed up a few steps. “I thought I wanted it but I don't.” She went on to say. “I hate it! Considered leaving it at an orphanage but I guess I thought maybe you might want it. If you don't, that's fine. Just get rid of it.”

It.

Even Inigo could tell something was wrong—he had never heard a mother talk about her child like that before. A glance at Olivia had him reassured he was correct. She looked equally disturbed.

“Bye.”

“Wait!”

What sort of woman announced you had fathered her child and then ran off? Inigo hardly processed his thoughts in time. He turned to his mother and gently as he could passed her the infant, and took to run after the woman. Olivia just about instantly took to looking over the child, but Inigo was more interested in the retreating form. “Why—Wait!” He called out to her, and it was with some obvious hesitancy that she stopped and turned to look at him. “W-Why didn't you contact me sooner, if you were with child? Why don't you want it—er, is it a boy or girl? Does it have a name?” There were too many questions to ask. He felt rushed, and nervous. “Are you certain you just want to abandon your child like this? Won't you regret this? Come back with me—we can have tea and talk this out.”

“No!” She nearly screeched, and Inigo flinched back a step from her. “I don't want it! It doesn't have a name—I never thought about it. I don't care! There's nothing to talk about.”

“But—do you live in Ylisstol? Where are you going?” Inigo tried. Her eyes flashed with what Inigo considered may have been actual rage, and she shrieked at him. Loudly.

“ _Don't talk to me!_ ”

The attention of damn near everyone in the market was on him now, and Inigo shied back another step from her lest people think he was harassing her. It was in that moment that the woman turned and ran. Gone. She disappeared into the crowd without giving her name or her home or any information at all. Inigo took nervous steps back in the direction his mother was in.

How could this have happened?

“Mother,”

“Inigo!” Olivia chirped his name in a voice that implied she was feeling quite the opposite of her son. “Here come look!”

Come look at what? The baby? Inigo sighed at his mother and shook his head. “Don't tell me you're attached—we can't even be sure that child is really mine.” Could he? How did he know this wasn't an elaborate scam of some sort? Inigo had a fair amount of power, working directly under the Exalt, after all.

Olivia wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head side to side. “Inigo look at her face! Look at her little nose! She looks just like you!” She argued. “She's a little girl, by the way. I already checked. She's not wearing any clothes under this rag...” Honestly it could hardly even be considered to be a blanket. “The poor thing looks like she's been starved. We need to get her some milk right away.”

Olivia was talking. Inigo was hardly listening to her. He felt somewhat faint, and he knew his skin was paler than it should have been. What was he supposed to do? Sure enough she was right—this child looked _just like him_. Normally a father may have been proud of that, but Inigo hadn't been in the realm of mentally prepared for this. Gods, her hair was even the same shade of pink as Olivia's was—a little fluffy mess on her head. And she _did_ look too thin, and Inigo wondered if that was because that woman had neglected her. How could she say she hated her? She seemed sweet.

He was somewhat startled when Olivia gently pushed her back into his arms. He didn't know how to do this—hold her. But it was alright, because his mother gently guided his arms to support her in the right places. Olivia only ever had one child—and that was obviously a long time ago... but she easily seemed to remember it. Maybe it was just second nature to some people. He had promised Owain that parenting would come naturally. Of course, that was when he was trying to encourage Owain. Inigo wasn't a man to take his own advice.

He didn't know how to do this. He wasn't equipped for this. Most people had months to prepare for parenthood, and this was all very sudden. He must have looked as terrified as he felt, because soon he felt Olivia's hands on his cheeks, and he was guided to look into her calming eyes instead of the chaos of his inner thoughts. “Mother--”

“You can do this.” Olivia promised, and Inigo thought that meant it must be so. He sucked in a breath and she must have thought he meant to argue... because she went on to encourage him. “You have saved worlds! Saving just one little girl should be easy. And she's just so cute! I promise you, I'll help you any time you ask. Oh! And Henry! Ah! He'll be so excited! Come on—we should buy her some clothes. And blankets! We'll need to find some bottles for her first. The sooner we feed her the better—we need to fatten this cutie up!”

“W-wait! Mother, I... I-I'm not sure I'm cut out for this.” Inigo stuttered. In the same moment he heard a noise that admittedly he had trouble identifying—until he realized it was the coo of the baby. Not a word by any means, she was hardly big enough to make a sound. She couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. She was just so little, and in spite of the fact that it was hot she seemed to be chilled. He tried to look at her with optimism. She had his eyes, his mother's hair... she hardly had anything to show at all of the woman who had just left her behind.

She squirmed until she was better situated against him, and he wondered how long it truly took a heart to fall in love. He was already scared—but no longer for himself. For her. Was she alright? Would she be healthier with food, was that really all it took? What if she was sick? She was certainly a little dirty—she needed to be bathed. She was so little and fragile and absolutely dependent upon him. But she just relaxed in his arms and curled into his warmth and acted as if she trusted him completely.

He looked up and Olivia was gone. No doubt she would be back momentarily. He was sure she'd left to find a bottle to feed the baby with. She was so light... Inigo didn't think she weighed as much as the sword that hung at his hip. She was so small. She seemed to be falling asleep like that, right in his arms, and a little smile pulled at his lips.

Instantly. He was sure. The heart could fall in love in an instant. This moment was a new page in his life, a whole brand new chapter even, and he kissed the baby's forehead and swayed gently in place while he waited for his mother. “This is new.” He whispered to her. Speaking to a baby he felt like a crazy person, but he wondered if anyone had ever talked calmly to her in her whole little life. “I've never been a father before. But if you promise to stay with me, I'll promise to make sure you smile every day.”

 

…

 

 

“Are you ready?” Severa asked, and Owain shrugged a little bit. He wasn't sure they should be doing this. Well—he _knew_ they shouldn't be doing this. Sneaking Owain out of the castle was a horrible idea. But he wasn't allowed to actually leave without both Severa _and_ Inigo at his side, and well... Inigo wasn't here.

Again.

Two weeks now. It wasn't a lie by any means that Inigo had been absent, but it was more than just that. He was _mysteriously_ absent. He wasn't even sleeping at the castle—he had been staying with his parents for a few nights. Henry was around but he didn't say a word on the subject, and honestly Owain was afraid to ask him. He would probably hex him or something. Not really—Henry rarely hexed people without fair warning. It was still a risk Owain didn't want to take.

It was hard to believe he was just sick. And if he was so sick that he had to live with his parents and avoid his friends at all costs... well then it worried Owain a great deal. He loved him, after all. Why should he let Inigo suffer alone? And knowing him he would just be worried about spreading germs to Cynthia or something.

If he was actually sick. Severa didn't think he was, and Owain wasn't sure what to believe if he was honest. Which was why she had suggested they spy on him. He pulled a brown cloak over his head and nodded at her. Yes, he was ready. No, he didn't think they should be doing this. “Don't you think sneaking around like this is a little extreme?”

“I told Inigo no more secrets. If he didn't want extreme he should have been honest with us about what's going on.” Severa answered. “You've got a sword, right?”

“Yes.” Owain wouldn't need it. Still, it comforted him and Severa to take one. Normally when he went in public he would walk with the staff that had been made for him, so people could look to him as a peaceful healer. Or a peaceful ice pack—seeing as how he could do little more than alleviate pain. This time he wasn't going to let _anyone_ see him, if he was lucky. The sword was just in case something absurd happened.

Owain thought they would find Inigo in his mother's house, bedridden. At least he wanted to think that, to some extent, because he didn't want to think that his lover was avoiding him. They didn't even make it _to_ Olivia's house. They cut through the market on the way there and noticed him. Not bedridden. He actually looked pretty healthy from where Owain stood.

He was buying fabrics. “Those look expensive.” Severa whispered.

Owain supposed some of them did. Most of them were dyed soft hues of color instead of just browns or whites. Nothing too terribly expensive, nothing made of silks. They all looked like colored cottons. This all felt sort of dumb to him. Why were they spying on Inigo buying fabric? It didn't make any sense. “Why don't we just go ask him why he's buying them..?”

Severa scoffed. “Because he won't tell us, that's why! He's clearly hiding something! He's— _damn_!”

Walking right towards them, that's what he was. Severa shoved Owain back behind a building and ducked into the alley after him, but it didn't matter. Inigo's voice certainly didn't sound like it was riddled with illness when he asked, “Severa, is that you..? I saw your hair... O-Owain? What are you—You're not allowed to be here!”

Worry crossed Inigo's face and Owain felt bad for putting it there, but honestly nothing was remotely dangerous about the situation. The greatest danger was the lecture Chrom might give him. Severa jumped to his defense as well. “I'm escorting him!”

“The rule was that we _both_ had to escort him if he left the castle!”

“Well you're here now, aren't you?” Severa asked, and Owain watched Inigo huff at her. Clearly he wasn't amused by her logic (correct as it honestly was). He shifted uncomfortably, holding the fabric balled up against his chest, and then he looked between them.

“What are you doing?” He asked. Owain grinned at him. He had to. Inigo always smiled when he was in doubt, and so Owain would do the same for him.

He hoped that a light tone might make Inigo feel less on edge. Especially since the answer was spying. They were spying on him. “We could be asking you the same question! What purpose do you have with all those fabrics? Do you owe a seamstress a debt?”

“I'm running an errand for my mother.” Inigo answered it in a flat tone, but the corner of his mouth did tug upwards. Owain hoped that was a good sign. “Do you mind telling me the _real_ reason why you're both spying on me?”

“Because I think you're hiding something and he's hopelessly in love. It's gross.” Severa answered.

Owain rolled his eyes at her comment because while the blunt truth, it also made them sound like children. All of them. He folded his arms across himself after he tugged the cloak to make sure it hadn't slid off of his head any. “You've been missing for two weeks. It's been... quiet.” He meant to say lonely, but he didn't want to imply that Severa's company wasn't worth his while. He rather enjoyed spending time with her too. But he also enjoyed the rare occasions where Inigo and Owain found themselves alone... and they were much more rare when Inigo wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Inigo pushed them, herded them practically back deeper into the little alleyway. It was dark and smelled a little bit like garbage, but it didn't matter because it was away from the hustle and they could speak more privately. He looked healthy. Owain had noticed a few times, but he was just glad about it. He didn't want Inigo to be dying of a plague or something. Still, even if he looked healthy... well he also looked tired. Owain couldn't remember the last time Inigo looked as tired as he did. He was always a night owl, he operated well without as much sleep as anyone else.

“I—well... Actually, you're right. I've been hiding something.”

Severa seemed happy about that? Owain couldn't imagine why, because secrets angered her so much. But she pulled her fist down and made a noise like she was proud of herself. Maybe she was just glad she busted the secret early. “I knew it! Is it a woman?”

“Hey!” Owain couldn't help the exclamation from leaping out of his mouth, and all he got in exchange for his obvious discomfort was a shrug of Severa's shoulders.

“Sorry Owain, it was bound to happen. Inigo has been chasing skirts his whole life, it's a hard habit to break.” She said. She was joking, but her jokes didn't sound nearly as playful as Inigo's or Owain's did. Part of what made her humor was that she seemed serious. It was... less humorous when he was the target.

“Ha, ha!” Inigo's laugh was reassuring. In fact, Owain clung to that sound because he'd missed it. Did his face look as stupid as his feelings were? Like he had desperately missed him? He certainly hoped his face had some level of coolness on it. “Calm down! Severa, I can't have you putting seeds of doubt into Owain's head. Knowing my luck he'll stage a whole performance about it.”

“Best if you never find out.” Owain tried to joke, but was it just him or did it sound a little dry? He hated that. Instead he cleared his throat and shook his head. He wanted to know what Inigo had been doing for two weeks, if not being horribly sick. “So what _is_ _it_?”

“I... can't say.” Severa started to growl, and Inigo put up his hands defensively. He almost dropped the bundle of fabrics, but Owain reached out and caught the one that nearly got away. It was a pale blue, and it felt like light cotton. The sort that would make a comfortable shirt. He actually had no trouble believing that Olivia sent him to get these, because she had a habit of making clothes for the people in her family. “Yes, yes, I know. You hate secrets. It's not... I just can't say here. Not now. It would be too embarrassing to explain. Just give me a few more days, and then I promise I'll show you both.”

Owain wanted to be comforted by that. Honestly he did. But he had been bothered by this whole event. When the day began he had expected Inigo to be sick, just as he'd said. Now he had learned that Severa's intuition was right, and it was a lie. He just wasn't sure how to cope with that. He was rarely on the receiving end of Inigo's tall tales. It made him wonder if this wasn't all a little bit of a fib, too. Would he really come back in a few days?

Of course he would! Inigo had never directly _said_ he was sick. That was all speculation. He hadn't outright lied, by any means.... and he'd never done anything to deserve less than Owain's full trust. So he brought a confident smile back to his face, willed himself to feel better, but...

Well Inigo must have seen it. The previous doubt, that was. Owain's heart raced faster when Inigo was upon him. Somewhere along the way he'd shifted his hold of those fabrics to just one arm, and so he used a hand to hold Owain's face and to brush his thumb across his lower lip. Was it so obvious that Owain was bothered? He supposed it must have been because he was so quiet. Inigo smiled at him, albeit a little sadly. “Nothing I've been hiding changes my feelings for you.” He whispered, but he whispered in the way he did before he kissed him. In the sort of husky voice that always ended up leading into a kiss or ten. It was a good voice, but usually reserved for when they were _alone._ Owain certainly felt Severa's eyes on him and his cheeks stained pink.

“If you need help, Inigo... If you need anything at all—I would... I have a whole _castle_ , I could...”

“I know.” Inigo smiled. He leaned away again, and Owain couldn't decide if he was disappointed or not that he hadn't been kissed. On the one hand, it was private. A secret between them. Their affections, their love life... Severa and Cynthia knew _of_ it, but no one had ever seen it. Alternatively... how dare Inigo whisper in that voice and _not_ kiss him? He hadn't landed on a decision yet, of if he wanted to be kissed or not. The decision was ultimately made for him, and he was surprised that Inigo swooped back in and left a chaste kiss on his lips. “Nothing is wrong, my lord.”

Well that could have been a nice sentiment, if not for the title, and Owain groaned to express his discontent. Discontent at a kiss gone sour because Inigo just _had_ to call him that, didn't he? He hated it! Prince or Exalt or God-incarnate, Owain would never want Inigo _or_ Severa to call him by his title. Inigo chuckled at him, at his little fit. “Ah, see? What a perfectly formed frown. Now if you would be so kind as to turn it upside down for me?”

Why did he have to be so smooth? Owain smiled for him—he had to—but he was still a little troubled with the secrecy. He asked, “How many days..?”

“Give me three.” Inigo answered. He stepped away from Owain, and despite the air being hot anyway, the cold spot that formed where he once was hardly seemed fair. Inigo sent a wink in Severa's direction. “I'll tell you everything then. Now Severa, my sweet... You'd best get the Exalt back inside castle walls before anyone notices he's missing. I would hate for either of you to be lectured.”

Owain turned to glance at Severa, mostly out of concern when she didn't yell at him for calling her his. She looked somewhat flustered. She cleared her throat and shook her head and grunted out “Whatever.” Still... the moment Inigo retreated out of the alley she turned to look at Owain and he could tell she had a little bit of a blush on her cheeks.

He worried about her. “Are you alright?”

“I've never seen him kiss you before.”

“I'm sure you found it to be a delight to the eyes?” Owain prompted, knowing full well and good that she would say just the opposite. She shuddered violently and her whole body stiffened.

“Ew! No thanks! Don't you think it's rude to be so vulgar in front of a _lady_? Do that in privacy next time, jeez!”

 

…

 

This was hardly what Owain had expected.

Expected? Ha! To say he had expected anything at all was a lie. He hadn't known _what_ to expect. When Inigo came into the gardens that day, he had a _baby_ with him. She was beautiful, truly. Her skin was soft and new and unscathed and her hair was bright and pink—and sometimes Owain wished Inigo's hair was that shade, too. Not that he looked bad with his silver-y white hair. He was gorgeous.

He'd never seen Severa look so excited before in his _life_. She swooped in like a hawk and as soon as Inigo was willing to let her go she took the baby and cuddled her. It was interesting to watch Inigo watching Severa. Owain noticed he looked a little concerned. Severa seemed to be doing alright, though. “This is _yours_? How?!” Severa exclaimed, and Inigo blushed.

He dodged the second question. “She is _absolutely_ mine. You cannot have her.” He chuckled at Severa, and she stuck her tongue out.

“I don't want her! Babies are cute, but they're even cuter when you can pass them back to someone else to feed or change or clean. Ugh, and they throw up all over everything.”

Owain snorted at her. She held the baby out at arm's length then—causing Inigo to take a step forward and nervously take her back so she could rest her head again. She looked like she was still learning to hold it on her own.

“I see your mother made use of those fabrics.” Owain observed that the baby was wearing a light blue dress, one made of the same material he'd noticed Inigo nearly drop the other day. Inigo nodded his head and sighed.

“Clothes for babies are too expensive. She enjoys making them anyway. I've had an earful of how badly she wished I would be a little girl.”

“So who is her mother?” Severa tried again. Owain had been trying to find a nice, sideways way of addressing that subject. Severa clearly favored the bold approach. Inigo looked hesitant. He grimaced and glanced at Severa like he was pleading. He wanted more time to come up with how to talk about it, clearly. Three days had not been enough.

Severa didn't give him more time. Instead her eyes grew round and she said “Oh.”

“Oh?” Owain asked, unsure what that meant. He reached out and Inigo shifted his daughter into Owain's arms. “What's her name?” He tried, instead. To give Inigo more time, he supposed.

“Her name is Soleil.” Inigo answered softly. “And... I don't know her mother.”

“Oh.” Owain repeated the same thing that Severa had. He had been admiring how sweet Soleil's big eyes were, and her lashes were long and thick, like her father's. Now he was concerned. “How can you not know..?”

But he had a hunch. Severa made him even more suspicious that he was correct in that hunch. She walked closer and lightly punched Inigo in the shoulder. Not hard. It was actually a sympathetic punch—if those truly existed. “Was this the result of the Exalt's Wedding?”

Owain wrinkled his nose. He didn't like it when she worded it like that. He went back to gently bouncing the little girl in his arms. She was precious. It was hard to think she was a 'result' of anything. If she was an accident, she was certainly a cute one.

“I—I can't remember most of it. I know I spent the night with a woman, but I... well I was too far gone to know my own name, let alone hers.”

“She never even contacted you?” Severa asked. “That's stupid. Maybe you could have worked something out with her.”

“I'm somewhat glad.” Inigo admitted. Owain glanced up at him curiously. Severa seemed equally unsure. Inigo shrugged his shoulders. “If I had known she was pregnant, I may not... have made the choices I made.”

He was fiddling with his sleeve, nervously. It only took a second glance before Owain realized he was actually just fiddling with the bangle on his wrist, nervously. He was worried about Owain's opinion in all this, no doubt. Owain had an opinion or two, to offer.

How could he be upset that Inigo made poor choices at that party? Who was Owain to call him out on it? He had gotten married to Cynthia and built a relationship from the ground up based on a foundation of lies. He should have told Inigo how he felt about him before he left. If he had, maybe...

Well maybe this sweet little baby wouldn't be here. But she was here, wasn't she? And she had a pretty strong grip too, he'd noticed when he let her hold on to his fingers. Strong and beautiful, just like Inigo.

“She'll need a cradle.” Owain considered. He was totally ignorant to the rest of the conversation that Inigo and Severa were having. He'd sort of gotten lost looking at Soleil and her tiny fingers and her round cheeks. “I'm sure my mother would put together a nursery in your quarters in a heartbeat if you let her. I think she's near her patience breaking point anyway—and she has months yet to wait for her own grandchild.

But was that presumptuous? He hesitated, and then looked back at Inigo. “You... are going to stay, right?” Surely his two weeks of time away didn't mean he planned to leave his position..? Owain would let him leave in an instant to raise his daughter, but... well Owain had been raised in the castle and he'd turned out fine.

Mostly fine.

They were letting him rule a kingdom so he must not have been so horribly weird.

“Of course I'll stay.” Inigo answered. “Mother has offered more than enough times to watch her if need be... Although from where I'm standing it looks like you may have formed a bond with her already.”

Severa stepped closer to Owain and nudged him gently with her arm. Not so much to jostle the baby. She asked, “Are you excited?”

Inigo must have shared the thought, because he also stood close enough to add “You'll get to hold yours in a few more months.”

How could Owain not be excited? He'd been worried before. Worried that he may not be cut out for it, worried that it would be impossible. How did you raise a child? It was honestly a game of chance, right? But somehow Inigo was managing. Granted, Owain now knew why he had light bags under his eyes, but... well those would clear up with a good nap or two.

Cynthia would have a ball. She would probably beg to watch Soleil, too. Especially since they were restricting her military duties for now. They'd grounded her, for the time being. No flying. She had made a fair share of complaints. Inigo would have plenty of help, and in the end... well he was sort of glad that his own child would have a playmate.

Although, if he had his way it would be less of a playmate and more of a sibling. Inigo doubtlessly knew that to be true. He was about to say more on the subject when he noticed a form approaching. It was only a few seconds before his brain registered it as Chrom. He sort of gestured towards him with the infant, and spoke up. “Oh—Hey uncle Chrom! Look! Have you met Soleil? She's Inigo's daughter.”

To be fair Chrom did look surprised and glanced down at the baby. A look crossed his face and Owain wondered if it was sorrow? Was he still mourning Morgan and Lucina? His children had been fully grown, and he could hardly imagine an infant would be hard to look at. It seemed more likely that Owain should be the one he had trouble looking at.

“We need to talk. All three of you.”

“What..? What kind of talk?” Owain asked, cautiously. With Chrom's next sentence, Owain suddenly understood why he had looked at Soleil with such remorse.

“War council. Now.”

Chrom walked away and Owain's hands started to shake a little. He held on tighter to Soleil in hopes he wouldn't drop her. In fact, he turned and meant to give her back to Inigo... but he couldn't. Inigo looked more horrified than Owain—he was shaking all over. Severa wasn't shaking, but she certainly looked pale.

War?

How?

Why now? Why them?

He looked between Inigo and Severa, and then glanced down at the little baby girl. For a second, his thoughts drifted. What if she followed in their footsteps? What if she lost her father to a bloody war, just like they had lost their parents? No... Soleil wouldn't lose her father. Owain would stop this before a war could begin. Whatever was happening, peace could be an option. It had to be. He wouldn't send Severa or Inigo to war. Not willingly. Never again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise!!! a chapter a day keeps the doctor away.
> 
> Just kidding I can't do a chapter a day I was just excited to get this one going.
> 
> babies and war go hand and hand right???? Isn't that basically what fire emblem is about???


	10. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council meets and a plan of action is reached. Cynthia is a master of mom-advice. Owain and Inigo distract themselves from all this war talk.

Owain had sat through his fair share of council meetings but this was the first time everyone was so focused and quiet. There was no idle chatter or gossiping in the background. Everyone was listening to Chrom as he spoke. “Regna Ferox has always been ruled by two Khans. As you know, after Basilio's death last year, Khan Aurello took his place.” Owain did know this. They had been aware of it when it happened. He was also aware that there had been some minor incidents on the Feroxi border of Ylisse since he came to power. He didn't interrupt. “This year he won the championship and became the presiding Khan. Since then skirmishes along the border have become the norm, but last week two villages were raided and burnt to the ground. I have been in contact with Flavia, but their laws give her little power over the military at this time.”

Cynthia was seated to Owain's immediate right. She looked uncomfortable in this sort of chair—it was easy to tell by the way she shifted ever so slightly every handful of minutes. He rarely saw her comfortable anywhere, if he was honest. It was obvious that pregnancy was taking a heavy toll on her frame. He'd once heard a maid coo that she didn't have the hips for it—that it would be very painful for her. He wondered if bone structure really had much to do with it. In any case, her lips were pressed into a line and she was considering Chrom's words just like they all were. It was likely she knew that she had little consequence in this possible war. She would be home and safe with their child for most of it. Still, she was a general and her opinions highly respected. She offered a question.

“What are we supposed to do?”

Henry spoke up. Owain noticed that he had Soleil laying against his shoulder, but he had no trouble maintaining his serious conversations while he did. He wasn't shaking. A quick glance at Inigo told Owain that he was still shaking. Henry had likely taken Soleil to ease his worries, if even just a little. “I suspect they're testing the new Exalt, to see what he truly stands for! The way they see it, our country is weak from the inside out with so many losses, recently.”

Owain watched Inigo. Shaking yes, but his elbows were propped up on the table. His hands were folded, fingers wound together like he was begging Naga for peace. He previously had his forehead pressed against those hands as well, but when Henry said that he had turned his head to the side, hardly lifting it at all. He still let his folded hands hold the weight of his worries, but he asked in a voice laced with impatience “So what do we _do_?” Because Henry had hardly answered a question at all.

Henry's smile only faltered when he looked at how blatantly worried his son was, but he found it again to look at Owain. Owain was so glad that Inigo's smile was so much more sincere and beautiful than his father's. When Henry smiled at him Owain always had to fight instinct to avert his gaze. It came with unease and often times bad news, for Owain, because Henry was the head of Ylisstol's council. When Inigo smiled it was comforting and beautiful and flirty and... well he wasn't smiling right then.

“What else do we do?” Henry laughed, it was a cackle, Owain didn't hate that but it did irk him that he was laughing right then. He heard a noise from his left. He was sure it was Severa suppressing a growl. “We should have a chit chat with the new Khan.”

“I propose we send a small group of shepherds to scout ahead and survey the situation. Invaders will be chased out—but their lives spared if possible—according to the neutrality pact we have with the other nations.” Chrom said it so confidently. How was he able to formulate a plan at a time like this? Owain was still reeling. Not to mention Inigo's occasional shudders and glossy eyes worried him. Severa's complete silence when she could be mocking councilmen was troublesome. Even Cynthia's discomfort was distracting for him—he wanted to ask her to go sit somewhere else, to leave the meeting. He wanted her to be comfortable, not to suffer through a meeting that he could brief her on later. Chrom caught his attention again at the end, though. “Once we know it is safe, only then will we ask for Aurello to meet the Exalt here in Ylisse—where we can be sure there won't be any attempts on his life.”

“Wait.”

Inigo and Severa's heads both snapped up to attention the moment they heard the word fall out of Owain's mouth, and he remembered instantly the vow he had made to himself. He could not, would not, take them to war. They didn't deserve to suffer anymore. Still, he couldn't agree to Chrom's ideas.

“I know I have spent the better part of my time as Exalt arguing to do things my own way, but in this case I believe in the way Aunt—Lady Emmeryn handled these matters. She ruled without judgment—she never blamed someone unless she knew they were guilty... and even then she always tried to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Undoubtedly why she's no longer among the living.”

It was a mutter from a man that represented the eastern cities of Ylisse, and Owain scowled at him. It effectively silenced him, but the damage was done. His comment hung in the air over all of them, and Owain knew it wouldn't help his cause much. “If we bring the Khan deep into Ylisse to meet with him we are _obviously_ trying to defend ourselves. Regna Ferox is built on raw strength and courage. If we act cowardly they will only think we're too meek to defend ourselves. Ylisse is not cowardice—Ylisse is peace. I will parley with Aurello at the border.”

Murmurs. They floated between the council. There was a certain power to what Owain had said. Cynthia reached out and squeezed his hand, and Owain realized he was clenching his fists. He relaxed in her grip somewhat, and tried to get a read on what people were thinking. Most of them were nodding. It seemed as if his decision had sat well with everyone, but...

Well, everyone except for Inigo and Severa—who looked nothing but concerned. Severa's brows were knit together and she was chewing on her knuckle, and Inigo had since gone back to his previous 'praying' position.

“I believe that the people of Ylisse will respect that decision.” One man finally said. Not a moment later Chrom heaved a sigh and nodded his head.

“I think you're right, Owain. I think Feroxi people will also respond well to your decision.”

So that was it. Owain was going to the Feroxi border to parley with Aurello in an effort to make peace and stop the harassment at the border. A breath he hadn't really noticed he'd been holding whooshed out of him all at once. They were not at war. Yet. They may still yet be faced with it, but for now... well for now they were going to a peace talk. Not a war. He stood up as Chrom dismissed the meeting. The first thing he did was turn to Cynthia and pull her to her feet. Not for show—not because he worried that people questioned his loyalty to her. He was actually very loyal to her, and so it was very easy to keep up appearances. Because he knew that with each passing day the weight of their child grew heavier and her small frame could hardly stand it, and because while funny to watch her struggle to stand in private... it was no time to poke fun at her now.

He was going to offer to walk her back to wherever it was she wanted to go, but before he could Chrom gripped his shoulder and he turned to face his uncle instead. “Owain we should talk privately.” He murmured, and Owain nodded his head at him. Was it wrong that he felt like a child about to be scolded? Chrom rarely lectured him. In fact, Chrom still was supporting him and guiding him in leadership, so... he wasn't sure what this conversation would be about.

As he followed Chrom out of the hall, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed Inigo. He was standing with Henry, who was making dopey faces at Soleil and earning likely nothing but a curious stare in response. She was still too young to smile on cue. Inigo's shoulders were stiff, his worry still evident, and he stood close to Henry's side like a child clinging to their father's leg. He was scared. It was a look that Owain recognized, but hated.

He would remedy it as soon as possible.

 

…

 

“You were right, you know.”

Owain wasn't sure he knew what Chrom meant by those words, but when he stepped into Chrom's study he felt at least some form of relief. Very few people started out lectures or scoldings with the words 'you were right'.

Chrom's study had become something of a second home to Owain when he first took the position of Exalt. Now it had been almost a year since that day, and he still found himself seeking aid from his uncle frequently. So far things had gone smoothly. The people loved him—even his ridiculous personality—and Chrom had kept his promise. He had not set him up to fail.

Of course no one could predict that war would strike. Certainly not Owain. He remembered Inigo's words when he asked to be Owain's retainer. He said that he hardly imagined a war would happen anytime soon. They had seen enough.

He also recalled Inigo saying that he would lay his life down for Owain. Severa made the same vow. They had sworn to be his retainers and to obey him, but also to protect him. That was why he had to make sure this didn't come to war. He was not willing to put them through that. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Chrom. Was he supposed to be excited he was right about something? He was right about a lot of things—oftentimes people just didn't see that until later.

“Carrying a weapon before will make it much more normal for you to leave Ylisstol with one in hand.”

“Oh!” Right about that? Well of course he was! He hadn't expected it to happen so soon, but the possibility that he would need to take up arms was always there. He had expected to be told he was right about going to the border—which he was also right about, he knew. Still, he raised his brow at Chrom. “I... know that. My wisdom is an expanse that reaches far beyond my years. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not entirely.” Chrom admitted. He stepped away from Owain and when he returned he had something Owain recognized—it was a piece of a practice dummy. They were made of leather usually, they resisted a blade similarly to skin. This was only just a part of it, long enough that Owain suspected it was a piece of a leg. He found that... he still had little idea what was going on.

“When my family died,” He began, and Owain was caught off guard again. What in the world did this have to do with that? How did his family, a practice dummy (and how did he get just the leg? Did he remove it just for the occasion?), and Owain's decisions fit together? “Gerome got me in the shoulder with an axe. After that he knocked me out—it was never their intention to kill me. Do you know why I have taken up wielding axes when I practice?”

“Because you want to expand your skills?”

“Because you hold an axe with both hands. Since that day I haven't been able to swing a sword like I used to.”

Owain held in the urge to make a noise of understanding. Mostly because he didn't understand. He didn't understand why Chrom was just now telling him this, or why he was in this office, or why he was acting so serious when usually their time was spent with chuckles and rolled eyes. “Uncle Chrom... why am I here?”

“I want to see if you can wield Falchion.”

Oh.

Now it made more sense. Falchion had been passed down through the bloodline of the Exalt just like the fire emblem. That said... not all of the members of the bloodline were able to use the sword. It chose who was worthy. Owain knew the way the sword worked well—he loved that sword. He loved the mystery it held, the power, the legend, the majesty... It was an incredible blade. The dummy, he now realized, was so they could test it. So they could see if it cut the dummy or just felt dull in Owain's hands.

Part of him was excited. Him? With that sword? It was a dream. A weapon truly suited to a Chosen One such as himself! The other side of him was nostalgic. His thoughts drifted back to his time with Lucina, teaching her how to care for the sword and laughing at her when she thought she could rename it. And rename it such a ridiculous name! It wasn't right that she wasn't here to hold it herself, any longer.

He reached out when Chrom offered him the blade, gripping it in his hand experimentally. It felt very natural. It fit into his palm like it was meant to be there all along, because who else was truly meant to hold such a mystical weapon than someone who would truly appreciate it? He watched Chrom step back—he held the piece of dummy between his hands and waited. Owain knew before he took the swing that it would cut through that leather. He knew because he felt it—he felt the power of Falchion when he held it, when he swung it.

He wasn't at all surprised when Chrom nodded his head and smiled. “I'm relieved.” He admitted. “I'll feel much better with you holding this.”

“Are you sure about this? What about you—how will I know you're safe if you're carrying around a common weapon?” Owain asked. Chrom couldn't die. He was still teaching Owain. He still occasionally stepped in and helped him make choices, he still was showing him how to negotiate, and now he needed him more than ever as he showed him how to prepare for war. Could an axe truly do the job that Falchion once did?

“I can't even use it, Owain. I'm sure. Use Falchion to protect our people—just as it's meant to.”

 

…

 

The day was long and full of stressful conversations with everyone he encountered. He was glad it was nearing a close. The moon was out and the sky was almost at it's darkest, and Owain was in his and Cynthia's quarters pacing. Usually she would be asleep while he brewed in concern, but she wasn't. He knew why. She was sore—the long day had worn on her just like it had worn on everyone in the castle. Even the maids and butlers seemed to be exhausted. It was a hard day.

He stopped pacing and came to sit behind her on the bed, where he could easily push his thumbs against her lower back and rub away some of the discomfort. She wasn't even startled—this was probably exactly what she'd wanted him to do. It was a somewhat familiar task at this point.

“What's on your mind?” She asked, and he was so glad. He was so glad she'd asked because he'd been waiting for an opportunity to vent all of his frustrations, but especially this one.

“I'm worried about Inigo.” He'd meant to go find him that day and figure out what he was so scared about... but he'd never ended up with the time. There were too many things to do and prepare. “He looked so nervous at the meeting today.”

Cynthia combed her fingers through her hair, beginning to braid it for the night, and she nodded her head at the comment. “I noticed that too.” She said. “Do you have any guesses? Besides just the possibility of war—we're all worried about that, obviously.”

“I wonder if he doesn't want to leave Soleil behind.” Owain was worried about Soleil, of course. “Ever since Chrom told us about the possibility of war, I just... What if he dies? What if she loses her father, just like..?”

“Yeah, that's pretty scary. But... Olivia and Henry are more than capable of watching Soleil for a few weeks.” Cynthia answered.

“Did you get to meet her?”

“What? Yes! I spent half the day with them—Lissa and mom set up a whole nursery for her! It was fun—but a lot of work. She's so cute! But... I mean, I think Inigo is worried about more than just that. Maybe... Maybe you should go spend the night with him, and talk it out?”

“I—what?” Owain had never done that before. Snuck out to sleep in Inigo's bed, that was. He had daydreamed of it a good many times, but... well the risk always seemed to be too great. The risk was still there, all things considered, but... well Inigo had been clearly bothered. If someone noticed him on his way to his retainer's quarters, he could always use the excuse that he was checking in on him.

“Don't you want to?” Cynthia asked, and Owain stayed quiet for a moment. He continued to rub her back, and he was amused by the hum that it brought to her lips. While he moved his fingers over her skin through the fabric of her nightgown, he made a point of pushing magic through them. A dim white glow followed the movements, and he hoped it helped to ease her aches. It was the least he could do, he imagined.

“I love him.” Owain murmured. Cynthia giggled.

“I think I know that by now, silly.”

But that wasn't what he meant. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her middle to hug her loosely. “I love you too, you know.” How could he not? They were so much more than friends—though certainly not in the same realm as lovers. But he worried constantly that he was hurting her. Was this way of living eventually going to wear on her? Would she grow jealous or bitter? He couldn't imagine her ever being bitter in her whole life, but... He never wanted to hurt her.

“Not really, you don't...” Cynthia began, and he cut her off as soon a he could with a shush.

“No, really. I love you as my wife, and I love our child, I want you to understand... I just don't...”

“We're family! Of course we love each other.” Cynthia had tied off her braid, and she turned around to face Owain. Watching her shift like that was somewhat amusing—it was clearly something of a struggle in her condition, but he didn't say a word on the subject. “Here, see, let me show you. Kiss me. Right here on the mouth.” While she spoke she tapped her lips with her index finger.

Owain grew uncomfortable before the entire sentence left her mouth. “Er—You want me to..?” Was this a game? A test? A confession? He was nervous. He wanted to make sure Cynthia knew he loved her, but he didn't want her to think he was _in love_ with her. This was... more like the love one might feel for a sibling, or for their mother or father. This wasn't...

His thoughts were interrupted by her laughter. It was louder than was likely appropriate for the hour, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts while she spoke up again. “Haha, see? We kiss for show in public all the time, but you don't want to kiss me in private. And good! I don't want you to kiss me! I'm making a point. Do you see it yet?”

“I think so.”

“Say it back to me, just in case.”

Owain felt a tiny smile work it's way onto his lips. She had been testing him. “You're telling me that it is alright for me to love you without being _in love_ with you, and that you feel the same way?”

“Ha! Nailed it!” She drew her fists down victoriously. “Hey I'm getting pretty good at all this intuition and advice stuff. Maybe there's more to pregnancy than backaches and cravings after all?”

He could think of no one else he would rather pretend to be married to. He counted his blessings every day for Cynthia and her selflessness in all this. Just like he constantly thanked the gods for Inigo's patience and willingness to hide their relationship. Owain leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss to her forehead, and he was surprised when that made her cease laughing, momentarily.

“...Now that I think about it, my back feels a whole lot better. I'll be fine on my own tonight Owain, really! Sneak down to Inigo's room!” Owain was hesitant of course, but not because he was worried about her mental health anymore. He was glad they'd had this talk, because he was more confident than ever that he wasn't hurting anyone by chasing after the love he wanted. He hesitated if only because he thought she was lying about her back. There was no sense in arguing with her, though.

He stood up and walked to the door, thankful to her still. Spending the night with Inigo was for the best. He could get down to the bottom of what was bothering his retainer. “Owain?” Cynthia's voice made him hesitate with his hand on the door that led to the rest of their chambers, and he stopped and looked back at her. She tilted her head to the side and said “I love you too, you know. Now go have fun! Oh—but--you don't have to share _all_ the juicy details this time. I don't really want to hear about Inigo's p--”

Owain shut the door behind him swiftly, but smiled as her laugh carried through the stone walls.

 

…

 

Inigo and Severa both lived in the castle. They stayed in a wing opposite where Owain's quarters were, and also down a set of stairs. It was less extravagant than Owain's suite, of course, but it was still very nice. He wouldn't have put up with them living in dungeons of rooms. They each had their own suite too, their chambers consisted of two bedrooms (one smaller than the other—intended for other family members of course), a small living space that opened up into a balcony, and a washroom. Owain had to pass Severa's in order to continue down the corridor that led to Inigo's.

That was the hardest part. Severa of course knew of his and Inigo's relationship, but... well something about her knowing he was there made Owain uneasy. He didn't want anyone to know, because he wanted his focus to be on Inigo—not on who may be listening in on their conversations.

When he reached the door he wanted he could hear crying behind it. They were tiny wails, clearly belonging to Soleil. A quick turn of the knob told Owain the door hadn't been bolted yet, and he didn't really knock... because what was the point of adding more unnecessary noise to a crying child? When he stepped into the room he realized the sound was much louder than he thought—the walls were good at muting out noises. Soleil was clearly not happy at all.

Far more heartbreaking than a crying baby was Inigo's role. Owain observed that he was sitting on a lounge with her. She was wrapped up in his arms and he was curled up around her, cradling her and humming but also shaking and crying as well. It was.... miserable to look at. “Inigo?”

He must not have noticed the door opening and closing, but Inigo certainly looked up when Owain spoke to him, and he quickly scrubbed his tears away with his sleeve. He put on a smile. It was remarkably worse than his usual fake smiles. “Why hello, milord.”

Owain rolled his eyes and walked closer to survey the damage. Inigo's eyes were rimmed and somewhat puffy—he'd clearly been crying for a while. Soleil on the other hand... she didn't look like she'd been crying nearly as long as her father. In fact, her cheeks were hardly even damp—and Owain suspected she had only been wailing. “I'll always hate you calling me that.”

“Heh, sorry.” Inigo took in a a deep breath but the exhale was more of a sigh. “I suppose I thought starting a debate with you may calm my nerves. I'm... not having a good evening with Soleil. This is the first time she'll sleep in the castle and... I'm not sure what I've done to wrong her, but she is very angry.”

“The most raw form of power and innocence lies in a child. They are in tune with our deepest ideals and despairs.” Owain watched Inigo's brows come together in focus. He was trying to understand, but finally he shook his head back and forth slowly.

“I'm not sure I have enough energy to translate tonight.”

Translate! Owain chuckled, amused that Inigo treated the speech as a separate language altogether. He crossed his arms. “I mean she's probably only crying because you're crying. My mother used to say that about Morgan when we were kids. Any time Lucina cried he cried. Which... begs the question. Why are you crying?”

Inigo let out an exasperated noise, a pathetic laugh, and cried “Because she is crying! This is... much harder than my mother made it out to be. I wonder if women truly are better suited to raising children. Maybe I'm not capable...”

“Ah, you are riddled with self doubt. Understandable—I have doubts of fatherhood as well.” Inigo protested when Owain started shoving on him, until he realized that he was trying to get him to make room in the chair. It took a little bit of awkward shifting, but with good faith and perseverance Owain managed to wrap his arms around his lover and cuddle him. He looked like that was what he truly needed, anyway.

Inigo sighed, but more contentedly than he had before. He only had to shift a little, and he was still able to rock Soleil... who had started to whimper instead of cry. Owain laid his head against Inigo's. “I won't believe your falsified tales.”

“I'm not lying, Owain! You've had time to prepare, and you'll have so much help, but being a father—all by myself!--is difficult.”

Owain smiled and closed his eyes, relaxing against Inigo in spite of the way he sounded like he was defending himself. Owain wasn't arguing with him by any means. He knew it was hard. He knew that he had only recently even met his daughter, and he knew that this was his first night where he was unable to beg Olivia for help. He also knew that Soleil was fine, however. She had been loved and doted on all day. “I believe that.” He murmured.

Inigo shifted and Owain felt him start to relax into the awkward cuddling. “I do not believe that you would consider giving up on Soleil. I already know you're more than capable of raising her. I've seen the way you look at her, and I know that you sing and hum for her. I bet you dance with her, when you have the chance.”

Inigo's face flushed, but Owain couldn't really see it. Inigo sighed. “I know...”

“You're not alone, either. So since we both know that Soleil isn't the real reason why you're crying... would you tell me what else is weighing on your mind?”

“I'm terrified.” Inigo whispered. Owain didn't push it. He waited for Inigo to find more words. They came a few second later, and with a dry sob. “We aren't even in our thirties and we will somehow have to fight in four wars. I'm not.... I'm not sure I'm strong enough to face war again.”

Inigo wasn't built for war. He never had been. He was meant for smiles and family and warm embraces. He didn't belong on a battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of his fallen friends and allies.

“It isn't fair, Owain. And you—what if I lose you? What if you can't convince the Khan to stop the attacks? Your choice of going to the border for parley is much more dangerous... What if we can't protect you?”

Soleil was asleep. Owain imagined that she didn't understand that Inigo's voice was full of fear. She just heard the gentle hum of his voice, low and smooth, and it lulled her to sleep. Owain heard the concerns, and they matched his own. He was horrified of letting Inigo and Severa die, after all.

He didn't want to tell Inigo that he would not see war. He was sure if he said it out loud, Inigo would just argue that he had to go to protect him. Owain was comforted, at least, knowing that he wouldn't let Inigo's fears come to pass. Inigo would not fight in a fourth war. His days on the front lines were done.

“There won't be a war.” he tried instead. If he could stop it from happening he would, that was certain. Owain would face almost any odds if he could prevent that. Inigo didn't seem all that impressed by the answer. Owain supposed that was fair. He let go of Inigo when he felt him shifting around. He watched Inigo stand, and cautiously carry the sleeping baby girl into the room that had once been just an empty addition to Inigo's quarters.

A peek inside and Owain saw it was now fit for a princess. He could see that Lissa and Sumia had a burst of fun that day, decorating a room for a child. Inigo laid her down he covered her in a thin blanket, and then retreated from the room. He left the door cracked just enough—and Owain guessed it was so he could hear her cries if she woke up.

When Inigo faced him again he didn't talk about war. Owain didn't want to talk about it either, really. Instead he asked “What did you come here for, really? Is something wrong?”

“Er—no, I...” He blushed. How did you suggest that you wanted to spend the night....without sounding like you had an ulterior motive? He had come to comfort Inigo, and he was content to spend the whole time they were together reassuring him that war would never claim another person he loved. Eventually he would have to answer the question though, and he knew he was somewhat guilty of the implications that came with it, anyway. “I came... to spend the night with you.”

“Oh.”

Owain's cheeks darkened at the way Inigo said that. Like he hadn't expected that answer, but also wasn't opposed. Inigo blushed too. Owain laughed. What were they doing, standing there like idiots? Was it really so embarrassing? Inigo smiled first, and then a few laughs bubbled out of his throat as well. “Shall I go?” Owain asked, but Inigo shook his head. A genuine smile landed on his lips, finally. It seemed like ages since Owain had seen that. The day had truly been awful. Inigo stepped forward and wrapped Owain up in a hug.

As if maybe there was still question, he said “No, stay.” Owain nodded his head and Inigo slid back. Still in his embrace, but instead of squeezing Owain in a hug he just let his arms rest lazily on Owain's shoulders. “Had I known a suitor was coming to greet me I may not have spent my evening crying.”

Owain snorted. Quickly he closed the distance between them, planting a firm and comfortable kiss onto Inigo's mouth. “Worry not—your beauty still outshines the stars and moons and skies, even when you cry.”

When Inigo guided him by the hand back towards the other bedroom, Owain supposed he knew. He hadn't come here for that intention solely, but there was no mistaking the look in Inigo's eyes. It was direct and forward. This wouldn't be like the times they found limited privacy and were shortly after forced to pretend they hadn't just been kissing when a maid or guard walked near them.

Inigo's eyes were always dark, but more so than ever when he pulled Owain down into the sheets. It wasn't a fairy tale or lusty novel. The sheets weren't silk, there were no candles. That hardly mattered. There was them. Inigo's hot breath against Owain's throat, threatening to bite down and leave evidence, and clumsy, jagged attempts to undress without having to let go. No rose petals or wine, but instead silly bouts of banter and laughter and deep, pleasured groans.

Owain could remember having lost the game of strength in the end, and having his wrists pinned back over his head while Inigo shifted forward to straddle his hips. He could remember the victorious smile that spread across his kiss-bruised lips—a toothy, lusty grin that was by far his favorite smile he had ever seen Inigo offer before. And when morning came his shoulders ached where Inigo accidentally drew blood with his nails, and the imprints of Owain's grip were bruised into Inigo's hips. When the sun fought its way in as slivers of light through the draperies and forced Owain awake, he shifted to better face his bed-mate. Inigo didn't open his eyes—he probably cherished what little sleep he got, lately—but he curled his arms tighter around Owain, drawing him closer.

Owain rested his forehead against Inigo's and they went back to sleep.

 


	11. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owain isn't the best at peace talks, it turns out, but to be fair he is talking to kind of a douche.

Falchion felt heavy on Owain's hip as they marched towards their northern border. He imagined it was the weight of defending an entire country. He was still holding out hope that he would never have to lift his blade in battle... but he knew that this sword would guide him safely. This sword had saved the world more than once.

Two weeks after the decision was made Owain and Chrom led their group to leave the castle. Or, that was to say, Chrom led the group. Owain and his retainers took up the rear, mostly complaining to each other quietly while they passed through the near endless countryside.

Cynthia stayed back at the castle, obviously, but she had promised Owain when he left that she would kick butt for him in spirit. Olivia and Henry were with Soleil. Henry was also watching over Ylisstol—as Chrom's adviser he was more than capable. Owain trusted him to keep the castle safe.

In front of them Chrom led the march. At each of his sides he had comrades. Sumia and Cordelia and a the flock that made up the rest of a highly trained unit of Falcon Knights were above them. Donnel and Gaius were chatting with Chrom. Gaius was just as he remembered him—and a pleasantly familiar face. Donnel was interesting to look at—when they'd left the past he was still just a kid himself. He had grown up well and strong. Lissa was steering the caravan, the reigns wrapped idly around her wrists so she didn't drop them, and she was complaining to Lon'qu—who walked alongside her. Owain imagined their conversation was one about how bored she was. They weren't missing much.

Not as far ahead Brady and Kjelle walked side by side. Owain had been surprised to find that the two of them had married during the time he was in Nohr. Brady claimed he had to best her in a fight to earn the privilege but... Well Owain had sparred with Kjelle more than once. He just wasn't sure _anyone_ could best her. Ever. It was hard to believe.

Severa had something on her mind. Owain could tell because she continued to open her mouth and then close it and scowl. She wanted to bring something up, but was thinking better of it. Owain wasn't sure what she thought she could bring up that would be bothersome. Eventually, though, he noticed her crack. Instead of scowling she groaned, and turned to look past Owain, at Inigo (who was walking on his other side).

“There are at least ten single ladies in that Pegasus Squad up there, Inigo. You haven't tried your luck at flirting with one. Not one! What is _wrong_?”

She didn't seem to be troubled by the fact that Inigo was in a relationship with the Exalt. She expected him to flirt anyway. In fact... Owain expected it, too. It was a habit he'd developed over the course of his whole life, and honestly Owain could hardly imagine he would quit just because he was having an affair with the Exalt. “Severa is right. I'm sensing a great lack of swooning. And rejections.”

Inigo looked at them and then snorted. It was odd that he was being so quiet. Owain had wondered too, but he'd just assumed it was an extension of the same fears that he'd expressed already. He watched Inigo look back over his shoulder, in the direction they came. They had already made it far away—the castle long lost from view. The horizon was nothing but emptiness.

“You'll think I've truly lost it.”

“Well I've thought that for years so don't let that stop you.” Severa quipped. Owain snickered. Inigo was hardly offended. Owain didn't think there was anything he could say that would strike him as truly irrational. They had seen things far beyond what made sense, and Inigo was hardly insane. He waited more patiently than Severa, who said “ _So_?”

“Soleil has been with me every day and night for nearly a month now. It's... strange to be away from her. I miss her already.” Inigo answered. Owain smiled and looked at the ground in front of them while they walked. It was a rough week for Inigo, when he was alone with Soleil, at first. For the most part he had plenty of support when he did his work. He carried her with him most of his day, wrapped up against his chest much the way many mothers carried their children through town. When he took up tasks such as errands or sparring Cynthia had taken an instant love to watching over Soleil. She practically fought Inigo to watch her some days.

Owain spent a good portion of his day holding Soleil, too. While Inigo and Severa did work, or while the three of them had time to relax. When he walked through the gardens with Inigo just to pass the time, he often took the burden of carrying her from his lover if only because he _loved her_.

She was just this precious little baby with bright eyes and pink hair and she looked more and more like her father with each passing day... and she was such a bright light. She truly out-shined the sun some days. She made everyone happy just by existing, really. It wasn't as if she was big enough to do much more than blink at anyone. Although it seemed she had been starting to smile more. Even if it was just gas—it was cute.

Owain didn't hide how much he loved Soleil. Inigo never asked him to. No one had ever said 'treat her like your own daughter', but somehow she'd become dear to his heart very quickly. She was the daughter of the man he loved—it was impossible not to like her.

Inigo had worked hard to make sure his duties hadn't slacked since she came into his life... and honestly Owain wouldn't have minded—but it seemed like he pulled twice his weight trying to make up for it. And now...

Well Owain had to admit it _was_ a little strange to see him wearing armor and sword instead of trying to cover a spit-up stain with his vest. It wasn't surprising that he missed her.

Severa didn't seem to think so either. She didn't make fun of him. She did raise a different point. “Maybe you'll be able to sleep a little better?”

“Perhaps.” Inigo shrugged. Would he sleep better without a baby's wails to wake him every few hours? Undoubtedly. But that was only under the assumption that he could get to sleep in the first place.

“You idiots better stay in your own tents. I'm not going to cover for you if you get caught trying to make out.”

“Hush!” Inigo yelped, reaching across Owain and flailing somewhat in his attempt to quiet her down. “Someone might hear you!” Severa didn't let him hit her, and Owain ended up gently pushing them both apart somewhat. They had gotten a little too friendly with his space bubble—which normally wasn't an issue... but if they were going to have a fist fight he didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.

“Speaking of that,” Severa began and she looked really concerned for a second there. She cast her eyes away from them, but Owain heard her (loud and clear!) when she asked “When are you going to make this relationship public?” Owain watched nervously as Brady glanced back over his shoulder, and then turned his attention back ahead of him.

It was much easier for Owain to elbow her, considering he was in the middle. He wasn't rough about it, not at all, but he knew her response would be. She pulled her arm back far to punch him, but she hesitated on the follow through. Then she groaned and grumbled “You're damn lucky I'm not allowed to punch you in public. Some Exalt you are! Hurting a helpless girl.”

“Well you certainly brought it on yourself!” Inigo scoffed. “Could you have asked that any louder? I don't think Chrom quite heard you up in front.”

Owain didn't think to stop Severa when she weaved her way around him. She wasn't punching _him_ , so he was happy. That was until Inigo yelped, and Severa triumphantly pulled her fist away from his shoulder. “You're not a prince yet. I can punch you all I want.”

“What did I do?!” Inigo argued, quickly moving his hand to rub the sore spot on his arm. Severa rolled her eyes and gesture to Owain. Her ability to do that while walking and not even _looking_ at Owain was somewhat impressive, he thought.

“Did you see the way he treated me? How can you let him be so cruel? That's heartless!”

Owain couldn't help the laughter. They both turned to look at him like it was unwarranted, but couldn't they see? It was quite amusing. “What are _you_ laughing at?” Severa hissed, and it only caused his chuckle to grow into a more giggly state.

“Nothing---You two are... I just love you, I guess.”

Severa distanced herself a step and held her arms out at length to make sure they weren't capable of touching. Her face scrunched up and she stuck her tongue out defiantly. “Gross. Leave me out of this, I'm not your paramour.”

A glance at Inigo made it clear the term had made him blush. In fact, it had colored his cheeks a deeper hue of pink than expected. He supposed it wasn't every day he was called something like that. Honestly Owain thought it was a sort of pretty name. A lot nicer than _concubine—_ and maybe he would suggest Cynthia switch to that term. He doubted she would. She was pretty fond of the word.

There was silence for a number of minutes. Severa, he supposed, was realizing they weren't going to tell her anything else on the subject of their relationship. Not because they didn't want to... but because she really had a problem controlling her volume sometimes. They couldn't talk about it, not with all of these people around. Eventually she got bored, and left them to walk up front with her father.

It was then that Owain reached his hand out and brushed Inigo's. He didn't hold his hand, that would be outright stupid, but he made sure his touch lingered for a moment—long enough that Inigo could be sure it wasn't an accidental brush. Not a moment later dark eyes turned to meet Owain's, and he began to whisper to him. Whispering was almost intimate usually, something that always made Inigo come closer to Owain like he might miss something important. He walked a little closer even then, but not on top of him by any means. “Cynthia has suggested a few times... and now I think she may be right. I wondered if, perhaps... once we have settled this situation with Ferox... would you allow me to announce our relationship to the people of the Halidom?”

He could see hesitation in Inigo's eyes. He could see each thought processing one at a time, as if he couldn't make a decision without weighing every option. He chewed on the inside of his cheek while he thought of what to say. Eventually he spoke up—though still in a hushed whisper. “I'm nervous about it.” Owain supposed that made sense—it wasn't exactly the most flattering light to be in initially. Throughout history many kings had mistresses or lovers, and it would be by no means the first time that lover was male. It wasn't exceptionally uncommon. In history many of those lovers became well respected and loved, and there was no question Inigo would be loved far and wide by the Halidom, but... Well, it didn't truly matter if people would come to love him. What mattered was that initially it would be scandalous. People would think the affair was cruel and rude and shameful to Cynthia—a concern that Owain was still coping with. Inigo only confirmed those feelings.

“What if they hate me? Everyone loves Cynthia—as they should—and I have no intention of shaming her. I don't want the world to think she wasn't 'good enough', when she's been such a hero...” Inigo's hero, for certain. He would have had to give up on the man he loved, if they hadn't had her blessing. He'd thanked her at least half a million times.

Owain watched Inigo's hands, where he began to spin the gold bracelet around on his wrist nervously. Owain wasn't sure why he did that, but he fiddled with it just about as much as he did the earring in his ear. “No one will hate you. The transition may be difficult at first, but...”

“Severa says that it's an engagement token.” Inigo interrupted. Owain closed his mouth. “And I suppose I know it is reminiscent of one, too. Making it public would be very permanent.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

“Almost like being married.”

Owain wasn't sure what was happening. Had this been up for debate? Was Inigo actually afraid of the commitment that came with it? “Almost, yes...”

But Inigo shook his head slowly back and forth. Before too much concern could bubble up in Owain, he heard the other man chuckle quietly. “Would you have ever imagined a man like me, getting married? Or—well being in a relationship that a whole nation knew about, I suppose. Most of my life I just assumed it was a distant dream.” He took in a deep breath, and smiled, but his gaze was fixed on the dirt. Owain looked back at the ground as well, and considered it.

Inigo had a reputation as a philanderer. When he took that up he probably never bothered to daydream of marriage. It was a habit developed during devastation and war, a way for a shy boy to be more confident. Owain knew the feeling. It was still hard to imagine that he was in a relationship at all. He had been lucky to have Inigo, his whole life.

“Owain, if everything had been different...or maybe if we had stayed back in Nohr..?”

Owain's smile blossomed and he turned to look at Inigo again. He was still looking at the ground, but blushing a little. Owain wished he could read his mind sometimes, to figure out why he made those faces or little smiles at nothing, or why he was shy. “I would have asked you to marry me a long time ago, Inigo.”

If he wasn't the Exalt everything would have been different. They could have found a cottage to settle down or traveled the world together arm and arm, but it was certain that the pressure of a throne or an heir wouldn't have come between them. Things would have been very different.

Inigo turned to look back at Owain with that same blush, but a more confident smile. “I would have said yes a long time ago, too. But just to be safe, I'll say it now as well. So long as Cynthia approves, and when we're certain Ylisse is at peace... We'll tell the world.”

Owain wouldn't have thought that _not_ kissing someone could be as difficult as it was on that day.

 

…

 

There was a small isle called Wilmington near the border. It was technically part of Ylisse, but the shores practically touched the Longfort—the boat ride hardly took an hour to reach land. It seemed a reasonable place to have their meeting, as it would be difficult for either country to mobilize an attack on such a small piece of land.

Aurello towered over Owain in height—which was incredible because Owain was hardly short by any means. He was filled out with muscles so large that Owain seriously wondered if they would pop. He was no doubt a strong and worthy fighter, and the fact that he took Basilio's place was hardly surprising. Aurello looked like he could have squashed Basilio like a bug. Perhaps he had.

He wore dark colors and the aura around him seemed to match. He didn't look like a very nice person... Of course, Owain knew better than anyone to judge a book by their cover. Even the cruelest kings may be acting under pressure, after all. He took a short bow, and Aurello did not return the favor.

Inigo and Severa were stationed at the door. A set of guards that came in with Aurello were as well. Chrom stood to Owain's side, but it was Owain who brightly introduced himself. “Hello! I am Owain Dark, and it is my _honor_ to meet the new Khan of Regna Ferox for the first time.”

Aurello grunted in response. “Do ye always talk like that?” He asked, and Owain admittedly winced. Was it so horrible? Was it so weird? There were people _far worse_ than Owain on the crazy scale. He was sure of it. “I ain't a fan of small talk.”

“Well! Then let us get to business right away! I would hate to impose on more of your time than necessary. I've asked you here to discuss the skirmishes at our borders. You're aware of them, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“...” No? He wasn't going to suggest any sort of remorse? Rude! But Owain could fake a smile just as well as the next person. Mostly. His lip twitched, but he cleared his throat. “Right, right. I mean to ask you to put an end to them. Our villages and people are suffering during these raids.”

“No.”

“Pardon?” Chrom asked from behind Owain. Owain's fake smile faltered. He had tried, he had, but could Emmeryn have even been pleasant with someone who came off so... awful? Having not been alive to ever meet her, Owain supposed he couldn't know.

“I said, 'no'.” Aurello repeated his words. There was a growl and then a hush from the doorway. Owain couldn't be mad at Severa for being angry. It was... unexpected. Aurello said “I'm thinkin' you should be 'pologizing to me. The damned Halidom should've forfeited its northern territories to Regna Ferox a long time ago.”

“To what end!?” Owain asked, and disbelief flashed across his face. “Ylisse owes you no debt!”

“Ylisse has always been on good terms with Regna Ferox.” Chrom added, and Owain nodded in agreement. Yes, they had always been allies. What changed?

“Consider it payment for the deaths o' so many of our finest warriors! The people of Ylisse are revered as heroes fer savin' the world, while Feroxi people are forgotten and left with broken homes and families.”

“Basilio saw to it that every man and woman who fought alongside Ylisse was honored!” Chrom fought. Owain was glad, because he didn't actually know much of what happened _after_ that war. He had been otherwise engaged in Nohr. “And Plegia paid for a substantial amount of the damage caused by the war.”

“Basilio ain't here. We gave that war our finest while Ylisse hardly sacrificed any soldiers at all—treated like dogs that fought for ye! Basilio may not have been man enough to demand payment, but I am.”

Owain tried his best to keep a calm expression, in spite of the fact that he was bothered. He wanted to do his best to sort this out peacefully. “Perhaps we can talk this out...”

“This can be handled with diplomatic cowardice if ye like.” Aurello answered. Cowardice. Was that what he thought it meant to refuse to fight a war over land? Over land that was _rightfully_ part of Ylisse? “Normally I'd fight ye, but since you are a child of Ferox yourself, by birthright... I may make an exception. After all, it only goes to prove my point. The precious Ylissian Exalt would not even be here had we not gifted you such a fine soldier.”

Lon'qu. He was from Regna Ferox, that wasn't a lie. With him he brought a remarkable fighting technique and it was the same technique that Owain used. He shook his head slowly from side to side. Lon'qu wasn't even _born_ in Regna Ferox. He was from Valm. His father may have once lived in Ferox, but he had long since been loyal to Ylisse. “I am proud of my lineage, and I should think that we _can_ find a diplomatic way to end this, but it will certainly not end with Ylisstol handing over a third of the Halidom! These holy lands are our territory and it is our duty to protect them, just as the great kings before us.”

“Well then!” Aurello gripped his belt—for a second he looked like he might draw the axe that he carried from its holster—and he scoffed. He heard the sound of footsteps as Inigo and Severa moved closer, no doubt ready to draw weapons. Owain let Falchion stay put on his side. He was absolutely not going to draw a weapon and start a fight. “I guess this parley is over. We will have our land, one way or another.”

Owain sputtered. “Wait—what? What are you saying, am I supposed to believe this is a declaration of war?”

“Well kid, it ain't a declaration of peace.”

Aurello left, his men with him. There was no battle had, thankfully. He supposed in the very least he respected the parley. That didn't mean much, though. Owain knew it was only a matter of time before another attack happened, and now that there was _war_ , it would likely be more than just a village raid. He swallowed a lump in his throat, but it didn't clear it any. He felt like he was suffocating.

War.

He wanted to stop it, but here they were. Inigo and Severa ran to his side. Severa put her hand on through Owain's, looping it into hers. Inigo slid his hand up onto Owain's back, warm and steadying. Owain wondered if he was swaying. He wondered if his retainers were being this way because they wanted to scream and shout and cry too?

But they didn't have the time.

“Owain, we should formulate a strategy. If we work hard we can make this war short.”

“Ylisse is not going to war.” Owain blurted, frustration seeping out. How could a man come to a conference meant to make peace, and make war? It was stupid! Didn't he want his people to be safe and happy? Was that just Owain, that felt morally obligated to keep every person living in the Halidom happy?

“Owain, we haven't got a lot of options.” Chrom answered. “Do you have something else in mind?”

“Yes.” Owain took a deep breath, sucked it in because he felt like he was choking. He felt like he was hot, like he was sweating. “We're going to Plegia.”

 

…

 

Their camp was near a thick wood, and Owain had no trouble sneaking away from his tent in the middle of the night. He needed air. Air that wasn't surrounded by a flurry of people, asking him what his plans were. He hardly knew what his plans were, how could they expect him to say it out loud?

Not war.

That was his plan. So far it wasn't going too well, and he was scared to death. Relations with Plegia had been peaceful since the Fell Dragon was defeated, but... well asking what he had to ask was still a risk.

Air. Clean fresh air that smelled like dirt and sticks and trees and sounded like a trickling brook and owls hooting in the night. It did little to relax him (he thought he might throw up if he was honest) but in the very least it relaxed him _a little_.

The quiet was welcome. It was also short lived. “Owain?”

He supposed if his solitude had to be interrupted by someone, it was for the best that it was Inigo. He would have known right away if he had been followed, though. He had been paying attention—he'd wanted to escape the camp unnoticed and he knew he had. It occurred to him then that perhaps he was the one interrupting Inigo's solitude.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I—er--I was just practicing—You didn't see..? I... What are _you_ doing out here? It's dangerous to be out alone—especially now, you never know...”

“I needed to think.” Owain muttered. Inigo nodded his head.

“I'll leave you be if you really want,” Inigo said. Owain couldn't have shook his head no faster if he'd tried. In fact he glanced at the thick wood around them. They were alone, and no one would see them. He was sure of that. So instead of wasting his time thinking about his troubles, thinking about what he'd done wrong, he took the steps necessary to wrap his arms around Inigo's shoulders and bury his face into his neck. He breathed in the way he smelled, and listened to his breathing.

Inigo lifted his arms up, and Owain felt him wrap them around his back. Tighter than was necessary—and honestly that was exactly what Owain thought he needed. “I love you.” Inigo said, and Owain could have cried if he thought he had the strength left in him. He was too stressed out by this situation to cry or to talk about it or to think about it He wanted to think about anything else. Anything at all.

“I love you too.” He croaked, and just when he thought he might let go of Inigo and act like an adult again, he decided to tighten his arms. Inigo took a sharp inhale, and Owain let up a little so he wouldn't suffocate.

Inigo rested his cheek against Owain's, and he sighed in something that sounded like content. Or maybe just comfort. Owain leaned back enough that he could kiss him, none too gentle. In fact it was almost bruising, and Owain fondly remembered that Inigo's lip had been darkened an entire day after their first night spent together. He pulled away from him then, no doubt confusing Inigo.

He certainly didn't look like he understood what was happening. “Are you alright..?”

“I'm scared.” It was his turn, right? He'd been strong for long enough. Inigo's eyes softened, and almost glistened, and Owain couldn't think of anything that would be worse than having made Inigo cry. But he didn't cry. He put his hands on Owain's shoulders, and held him at arms length. Gently, he pushed on him. Owain took a step back. Inigo continued, and Owain let him guide him backwards. He was a little startled at first when his back made contact with a tree.

Inigo moved forward and kissed Owain's jaw. Owain's eyes closed and he released a breath through his nose. He didn't expect Inigo to quell his fears by any means. This was... a welcome distraction. Inigo's hands came up and firmly held his face. A welcome distraction indeed, but was it enough? An unwanted tear slipped down the side of his face, and Inigo swiped at it with his thumb.

Inigo pressed a tiny kiss on his cheek where the tear had stained it, and he leaned forward after that to whisper into his ear. Owain couldn't have cared less what he said—the action alone was comforting and familiar and he was thankful. But what he did say _was_ worth listening to. He said “Let me kiss it better.”

The scrapes on his back caused by the rough tree bark and the purple welt hidden beneath Owain's collar were both comforting reminders, come morning, that Inigo was (and always had been) a man of his word.

 

…

 

“You have some nerve coming here like this. I know exactly what you intend to ask of me.”

The queen of Plegia was a pleasant woman, generally. Unlike her predecessors she ruled with an amount of compassion and kindness that the country had long needed. Trusting their queen was the first step in their journey to being a safer, happier place to live. She was young, yet, but older than Owain was. Her name was Alteana.

Her welcome had been warm initially. She granted them a place to stay in the castle after their long journey. She'd provided them with a banquet and given them time to relax and _bathe_ , and enjoy the luxuries that a castle provided, considering they had been sleeping on the ground for some time. The conversation had only turned bitter when they were alone.

Well, somewhat alone. Feeling no need for worry, Owain only felt it necessary to bring Chrom with him. Inigo and Severa deserved the downtime anyway.

“Your highness, I beg your pardon?” Chrom asked, “Have we done something out of line?”

“Not yet.” She wrung her hands together, they were gloved in a charcoal colored satin. He watched her eyes cast downwards, and back up. “And I suppose it is wrong of me to judge you so quickly, but I fear...” She shook her head. “I fear I'll have to say no to your request.”

“Fear is one of many things that makes us human.” Owain said. “But you haven't even heard the request I have come to make! How do you know you must decline?”

“I am very aware of the tensions between Ylisse and Regna Ferox. I want no part of it! I assume you have come here to ask Plegia for aid, but I... I cannot offer you any.”

“Milady...”

“I won't be swayed! Plegia has suffered at the hands of war for far too long. This country has hardly had enough time to heal, the scars from our losses run deep. We need to build a foundation. I cannot, _will not_ , provide you with aid in war.”

This all sounded very final. Owain listened to her patiently (despite the fact that she interrupted him) and he nodded in agreement with what she had to say. When she stopped, and only then, did he clear his throat. “That—er--That isn't what I came her to ask of you.”

“What?”

She flushed. Pink stained her face, she looked mortified. Chrom kept a straight face, but Owain cracked a tiny smile. She was embarrassed for making assumptions, it was no big deal. Everyone did it now and then. “I didn't come here to ask you to aid Ylisse in war.” He repeated, for her, but then he added softly “I respect what you had to say. I believe that war, now, is unwarranted. We are all still recovering—and Plegia's suffering has not gone unnoticed.”

“S-So why are you here?” She asked, and she seemed twice as mortified that he'd made her stutter.

He said, “After the Fell Dragon was silenced Regna Ferox, Plegia, and Ylisse came together to create the neutrality pact that we live by now. All that I have come here to ask is that you _maintain_ that pact. Maintain peace. There is beauty and power in silence.”

He watched her come to understand what he had to say. Then she cleared her throat once more, and finally Alteana seemed to understand. “You've come here not to ask me to aid you in war... but to ask me _not_ to aid Regna Ferox?”

“Regna Ferox is imposing on a treaty we all made together. We deserve peace, don't you think? If Plegia remains neutral and Ylisse refuses to give him the war he desires... then perhaps we can avoid bloodshed, for everyone.”

“The Exalt of Ylisse comes to me, to ask for peace.”

It wasn't a question. Owain was quiet while she looked him over. Up and down, from his boots to his collar, and she said “I saw her fall.”

Chrom stiffened somewhat, beside Owain.

“I was just a little girl at the time, dragged to a public execution because there was no defying the will of that horrible king. If he wanted his subjects to see a woman fall to her death, then see it they would. I was just old enough to understand what she did. What she said...You remind me of her.”

Owain resisted the urge to mention that it was his aunt. She knew that, no doubt. He just waited for her to go on.

“Plegia has made its fair share of mistakes, just as Ylisse has. The Lady Emmeryn showed me that it did not truly matter. The past cannot be undone, but one person can change the future. I... respect very much that you came here to prevent unnecessary fighting between Plegia and Ylisse. I will not provide aid to you, should this become a war... but I give you my word that Plegia will not aid Regna Ferox, either.”

Owain's heart jumped into his throat. Was this really happening? She had agreed to his request? It was incredible! Good news, finally, and he wanted to jump and celebrate and hug this woman. Of course he didn't. He hardly knew her, their introduction was _that day_. Still, this was worth celebrating.

Plegia was not going to war.

“ _Thank you_.”

 

…

 

Inigo had to admit, he was glad to be home.... even if it meant council meetings. The journey home had been long, but it had been so rewarding to come back. His mother hugged him and he held his daughter (and she seemed so much bigger!) and Olivia told him all sorts of silly things that had happened... He slept in his bed, and it was soft and warm and he wanted to stay there forever, curled up in the sheets.

But then, of course, the following day came and Henry was at his door bright and early with the promise of meetings! ( _Get used to 'em, Nyah heh!_ )

So here they were. All tired. Exhaustion was clear on Severa's face. Bags where they didn't belong, her skin was a little paler than usual. She had her arms folded on the table, and her head was laid down in it. Any moment, he imagined, she would fall asleep. He didn't mind briefing her on the meeting later.

“Since the Exalt's visit to Plegia, attacks on the border have nearly stopped entirely.” Inigo listened to the people speaking, but he didn't think he was capable of caring. He was horribly tired. Why should their meeting be so early? It should have waited until afternoon, he thought.

They said that the attacks stopped, and Inigo assumed it was because Plegia refused to come to their aid. Part of him was hopeful that, as a result of Owain's quick thinking to speak with Queen Alteana, perhaps Aurello would withdraw his plans for war and see the err of his ways.

Owain looked horribly tired too, and no doubt he hadn't slept. While Inigo had been curled up, snoring away in his bed, Owain had probably been up half the night talking to Frederick and Henry and Cynthia. Even though he was pale and clearly sleep deprived... he was avidly talking.

Inigo was impressed with how well Owain had taken to these council meetings. For someone who could make a mountain out of a molehill... he was actually quite good at negotiations. Inigo was proud of him. In the year since he had become Exalt, he had shown himself to be _good at it_. For all his concerns that he wasn't ready for this... well he had been.

By the time he realized he was lost in thoughts and spacing out, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Behind Owain, past him, and standing in the doorway was Lissa. She was waving at him—at Inigo—and honestly any excuse to get away from the table of boring councilmen was fine with him. He slipped away, but didn't go unnoticed. Severa had fallen asleep on the table, but Owain hesitated in his conversation to cast him a curious glance.

Inigo flashed his liege a smile and slipped towards the door.

Lissa grabbed him and pulled him down to her height by his hair—and he fought back a yelp. Excuse her! Did she do that to Owain and Lon'qu regularly? It was unnecessary! He would have leaned down for her anyway! When he was at her height she cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered into his ears, and a smile grew on his face.

“ _Tell Owain after he's done here, alright?”_

Inigo was confident this was way more interesting than a stupid meeting. Luckily it seemed to be almost over. Inigo walked back to his spot, and took his seat beside Severa. Just as he did, Chrom spoke up. He said something along the lines of maintaining high defenses at the border and keeping an eye out for trouble. That was good, Inigo imagined. A strong defense and no trouble. He only felt a little bad for absolutely ignoring most of this meeting... but he was tired!

“Severa,” Owain shook her arm gently, and she snorted and sniffled into awareness. The noise she made was hilarious—Inigo was thrilled he'd been around to hear it.

“Wha?”

“Meeting's over. I'll fill you in after you have a nap.” Owain murmured to her. Severa her arms above her head in a wide stretch, and some color returned to her when she did. Inigo was almost jealous he hadn't thought to sleep through the meeting, instead of just space out.

“I was awake the whole time, stupid.”

It was an obvious lie. Inigo chuckled. “Yes, graceful snores you when you are wide awake.” He teased. She returned to her position of having her arms folded under her cheek and glowered at him.

“You're lucky I'm too tired to punch you.” Ah, well, Inigo was glad she was too tired to punch her too. He'd suffered double during their journey since she wasn't truly allowed to punch Owain around others. They might not think she was behaving properly. Honestly with how familiar everyone there was, Inigo doubted they would care. There came a time in every man or woman's life when they wanted to punch Owain. Sometimes many times.

“I think we could all use a nap.” Owain said. He probably wanted to. Skipping the rest of his duties to sleep was likely the first thing on Owain's mind, but Inigo knew otherwise.

“I have it on good authority that you'll never sleep again.” He joked softly. Severa perked up at the sentence and raised an eyebrow at Inigo. Suspicious. She was suspicious of what he had just said. Owain didn't seem to catch the drift though, and so Inigo reached out and put his hand on Owain's shoulder. “Owain, I've been asked to inform you that your _daughter_ has just arrived. It seems to me she waited just long enough for you to get home.” He winked.

Watching those eyes he loved so much try to process that information was a lovely treat. He was tired, and running slow, but there was no doubt the exact moment that he understood. Inigo was by no means talking about Soleil. “What?” He asked, as if he was afraid to hope for such wonderful news.

Inigo pushed him gently—shoving him in the most compassionate way he could towards the door. “Lady Lissa told me she meant to come get you when it began—but everything happened so fast that the baby arrived before she had the chance to summon you. Go! Cynthia and your new baby are waiting for you!”

Owain left them in the dust. Severa stood up and came to stand beside Inigo, and he chuckled at the sight of the Exalt all but running out the door. No doubt he would find his family soon enough, and Inigo couldn't wait to hear all about that baby girl. He knew that in the near future Owain would bring her to meet his retainers, and Severa and he would hold her. They would learn her name. Most importantly, Inigo thought, they would find out if she had been born with the brand of the Exalt or not.

“You think she's ugly?”

Inigo laughed. Severa snickered too, and he shook his head. “I think the new princess will be beautiful.” Yes, he imagined she would be a sight to behold. Neither of her parents were lacking in beauty. She would also be strong, he was certain. She had the blood of heroes in her. Many heroes.

“Well obviously she'll be pretty someday. But I just meant do you think she's an ugly _baby._ Sometimes they are, you know! But...it's pretty sweet how happy he looked.” She admitted. “I mean, not that I care that much. But it was.” Inigo thought so too. The raw joy and excitement that came with the realization that he was a _father_ now... well Inigo was only a little jealous. He wished that he had that same joy when he met Soleil... but instead he had been overwhelmed with fear and doubt. “So does this make Soleil her sister?”

Inigo smiled and shook his head. “Not officially, by any means. Although being so close in age and raised together in the castle, I'm sure they'll feel like sisters no matter what.”

“You never did tell me when you were making it official.”

“Ah, I know. You were talking too obscurely loud, then. But... hopefully soon. When the matters with Ferox are resolved, I think. Unless something absurd happens.”

“When does absurd stuff ever happen to us?” Severa asked, rolling her eyes. Sarcasm laced her voice and Inigo understood why. Everything that had _ever happened_ to them had been absurd.

“Hopefully soon.” He repeated, quieter.

 


	12. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come to prepare for war, for real. Inigo isn't sure how he feels about getting old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise: i'm posting this and the next chapter back to back because they're both a little shorter than the others, and because chapter 14/11 is going to be significantly longer. guys i'm gonna actually finish a fanfiction that i started for like once in my life get pumped.

Ophelia was nothing short of the perfect little girl. She was born with light brown hair, closer in color to Cynthia's than Owain's. It got a little lighter after she was born. She was born loud and strong, and she wasn't shy about crying. Soleil had always been relatively quiet, but Ophelia wasn't. Inigo thought it was amusing, considering it was rare for Owain to shut up either. Owain had been less than amused by the comment.

It was only a matter of hours after her birth that her brand surfaced. It appeared on her inner forearm, a little lower than her father's. It was reason for the Halidom to celebrate: Their future ruler was born! It also was a much needed relief to Owain and Cynthia... for it meant they had completed the task of an heir, successfully, and wouldn't have to try again.

Things were going _perfectly_. The attacks at the borders had stopped completely over the course of the few months since Ophelia's birth. The Halidom appeared to be safe... and war had been averted. Owain didn't know what had changed Aurello's mind, but... he was thankful every day.

That was until Gaius unexpectedly gripped his arm and tugged him into a small room in the palace. It was just a spare lounge, there was nothing so special about it... but seeing Gaius in person was something of a shock.

“You're back!”

Gaius had been sent out scouting a few times since the parley with Aurello. He was in charge of keeping border defenses raised, and seeking out any unexpected changes. Seeing him in person had been exciting momentarily, but it sank in quickly that it may have been bad news.

“Listen, we need to talk. Asap.”

“You have my attention right now.”

“Three villages on the outskirts of Ylisse just got razed. I'm talking leveled. There is nothing left. No people, no farms, no livestock. I caught one guy as they were retreating from one of 'em. This Aurello guy is saying he wants Ylisstol, and he'll burn everything down between here and there to get it.”

Owain couldn't have hoped for _worse_ news, honestly. His jaw clenched. “Go report to Chrom.”

“You okay kid?” Gaius asked. Owain shook his head no. Gaius opened his mouth again and Owain interrupted him.

“Go report to Chrom. Don't... tell anyone else yet. The last thing I need is Ylisstol to fall into a state of panic.” Owain left him behind. He needed to catch up with Inigo and Severa. They had been sparring last he'd checked, but when he got out to the garden they were putting things away. Inigo greeted Owain with a warm smile, but it quickly slid off of his face when he saw Owain's concern. Sure enough his expression turned troubled, and he watched Owain with parted lips and confusion.

“Uh oh.” Severa blurted, considering her friend's face. “What happened?”

“Inigo, go tell Henry to call a meeting.” Owain _ordered_. He rarely did that. He didn't often tell his retainers what to do, and even less often in a serious voice like that. Inigo didn't even question him. He whacked Severa in the hand and gestured to the ground. Owain followed the glance to a blanket that was sprawled out, where Soleil was playing with a handful of large, square blocks. She was getting so big—she could easily stack the blocks and sit up on her own, but she hadn't taken up crawling yet. Owain couldn't imagine she would be as easy to deal with once she was mobile.

Inigo dismissed himself and Owain was thankful he didn't stop to bow or say 'yes milord' or something to that extent because of the tone he had used. Obviously he knew it was serious, but Owain was still... thankful for the lack of titles his retainers used. Owain knew that Inigo had been silently asking Severa to keep an eye on Soleil for the moment, but Owain didn't really hesitate to go scoop her up. She sat easily on his hip, and right away she started reaching for his face.

“Gaius has returned.” Owain started. “He didn't have... good news.” Soleil continued to reach up towards his face and eventually he let out a sigh and lifted the circlet off of his head and handed it to her. Lissa might have killed him if she knew that he let Inigo's daughter teeth on it when she wasn't around, but Soleil was happy to chomp on it with her gummy mouth. Defeated and de-crowned, he said “Khan Aurello has decided to attack after all... I—we'll have a meeting.”

“Alright. I'll go help Henry and Inigo make arrangements. Here,” She offered her arms, to take Soleil. “Do you want me to take her to Inigo?”

Admittedly Owain pulled her closer and shook his head. “Hah—I—er...” He tried. No. He wanted to cuddle the little girl and bounce her in his arms until she started giggling wildly, and he wanted to selfishly use her smiles to make himself feel better. Severa rolled her eyes.

“Don't drop her or something, alright? He still hasn't stopped talking about the _last time_ she got hurt on my watch. What's the big deal? Babies get bumps and bruises. It's part of being a kid. Eh, whatever. I'll see you at the meeting.”

Owain was glad she humored him. For a lot of reasons. When she left he spun her around and made her giggle and smile, and when _he_ finally got dizzy he stopped, swaying somewhat with Soleil. He didn't know when he would see her again, after this, but he had already decided on a few things concerning Soleil. Ophelia too. War was no safe place for infants. He nuzzled his nose against her fluffy pink hair (finally long enough to put a ribbon or two in) and he wished he could think of a better way to keep them safe.

 

…

 

Owain had long since passed Soleil back to Inigo. For the past two hours Gaius had been filling them in on what he had learned. Intelligence missions were his specialty, and Owain was glad they had sent him ahead for the job. Gaius was... amusing. Usually, that was. He always had candy in his pockets and sugar on his breath. Times like this he seemed more blunt and cold. War was coming. Aurello was mobilizing troops.

“Well we should probably get Owain—er, _Lord Owain—_ out of here, right?” Severa asked. Owain's attention landed on her. He sort of had expected _someone_ to suggest he flee the capitol. It was coming, just like war. 'Protect the Exalt'. The Exalt didn't need protected. He needed to protect his _people_.

“The safest place to hide out during an attack would be Fort Aneia.” Henry said. Inigo shifted to bounce his daughter on one knee to keep her from fussing, but he nodded in agreement.

“Aneia is surrounded by mountains, and the fort walls are equipped and defensive. It would be the safest place—as well as the hardest place to stage an assault. If the Exalt went there,” He stopped. He wasn't interrupted by any means, but he must have just noticed how severely Owain was staring at him. Owain had intended to let him finish his sentence before he interrupted Inigo—he didn't want to embarrass him, after all—but he just stopped. Then he shook his head slowly left and right.

“You _have to go_.” Inigo tried instead. Henry raised a curious brow but his attention turned to Owain. Owain thought it was funny. Had Inigo learned to read his mind? It was a nifty trick—he hoped that one day he would learn to do the same.

“I am not leaving Ylisstol. Not yet.” Owain countered the argument. Severa groaned and raked her fingers through her hair.

Her frustration was commonplace at meetings like this. She was smart, but her ideas were often the most obvious courses of action. Straightforward. To the point. Just like she was. There was nothing wrong with that, but for the best part of all of this mess Owain had been trying to take back ways to prevent the war. He still was. “ _Why_?” She hissed. “You're no good to us dead, you know.” _idiot_. It hung in the air, in her voice. He heard it. She was calling him an idiot, whether or not she said it in front of anyone else.

“If I leave Ylisstol when there are rumors of an attack going around people will just _panic_. It's unnecessary anyway. We'll prevent Aurello's troops from ever getting near the capitol. If he was here that would mean he had leveled his way across almost all of our country. But...”

“...But?” Inigo asked.

“Cynthia is going. Ophelia as well.” He meant to say more, he really did, but this time Owain was interrupted. Specifically by Cynthia's gasp, and then a sputter of coughing as she choked on the air she'd inhaled so quickly.

“What?! That's—I should stay here to defend— _Owain_!” Cynthia was right, to an extent. She was strong and trustworthy and Owain knew with her in Ylisstol it could never fall. However... Ophelia was too young. She needed to have one of her parents with her, and it was going to be her mother. Cynthia was a capable fighter, but she was also less likely to be targeted and assassinated. She would be _much safer_ where she couldn't do something stupid, like sacrifice herself to protect Owain.

But calling her stupid wasn't the argument he used. “Ophelia is too young to be without her mother. If all goes well you will return to Ylisstol before you know it.”

“And what if all _doesn't go well_?” Severa asked. “Then we'll be down an Exalt. Again. Are you seriously going to march into war?”

“No—I said it once already Severa. I'm staying in Ylisstol.” Owain shook away her comment. “Henry, I want you to go with Cynthia and Ophelia to Fort Aneia.”

Henry didn't have an argument. He had probably seen this coming—the man had the gift of prophecy now and then. He was the best fit. Owain trusted him to keep the fort safe while also maintaining communications with Ylisstol. Also... “Henry,”

“Hmm?” He asked, looking up from the notes in front of him. When his face reflected curiosity it wasn't too unlike Inigo's, Owain thought. His lips parted and he tipped his head to the side. “Yes, my lord?”

“Take Olivia and Soleil with you.” Owain hoped Inigo wouldn't be mad. He hoped he saw the virtue in this. Soleil needed to be kept safe, too. She had to go too. Still, there was no doubt that Inigo hugged his daughter a little closer to him. He didn't flinch or argue but he held her close and looked anywhere but in Owain's eyes.

“Er—I--” Henry's glance at Inigo likely came up with the same results. Inigo was quiet, but not against the idea. He nodded his head. “Yes, I will.”

When the meeting was dismissed Henry scooped up his paperwork and promised to return for Soleil as soon as he had made the arrangements. Inigo had retreated to a corner of the room to hug her close to him. They'd been a family for months now. It wasn't really fair to ask him to let her go. Owain and Cynthia joined him there, and eventually Severa as well.

“Inigo...” Owain spoke softly. They all did, because there were still a few people exiting the room and chatting with others.

“She should go.” Inigo interrupted him. He rested his cheek on top of Soleil's head when he said it. “She'll be much safer.”

“I'll take good care of her, I _promise_!” Cynthia added. She was likely still bitter herself, but she knew there was no sense arguing with a plan as rational as this. Cynthia had Ophelia with her. She was still small enough to lay against her shoulder, not squirmy and playful yet like Soleil. “And they'll have so much time to play together!” It was still a work in progress to get Soleil to treat Ophelia like she wasn't just another toy that she could push aside when she was bored with it. The idea of them playing together was a good laugh, though, and it earned her a tiny smile.

“Inigo,” Owain tried again, “You may go with them to Aneia if you want to.”

He could tell Inigo was actually considering the option in the way that the silence hung between them for a handful of seconds. But, as Owain somewhat expected, he shook his head no. “You need me here. Where would you be without both of your noble retainers?”

“Or your boyfriend.” Severa murmured. Cynthia let out a good laugh, for what it was worth.

“At least Owain won't be too lonely, right?” She asked back, and Severa nodded with a grin. Making light of the situation was nice, Owain supposed, but he was very serious.

“Are you sure? I won't judge you one way or the other.” He promised. Inigo shook his head no, again.

“My parents will be there to keep her company, and Lady Cynthia is right—Soleil will have plenty of time to play and be surrounded by love.” Inigo decided. “I want to stay here, to keep you safe. We've got to make certain Ophelia doesn't become the Exalt just yet, don't we?”

“You better!” Cynthia quipped. “Owain has worked _way_ too hard on this Exalt business to die this soon.”

“I'm not dying!” Owain rolled his eyes. “Part of me thinks this may be an idle threat from Aurello anyway. How does he intend to raze Ylisse to the ground when his country is practically at war with itself? Tensions in Ferox are high right now. I think we still have an advantage, even against a Feroxi army.”

“Okay then, well I think we should make a promise.” Cynthia decided. Owain looked skeptical, and she revised her sentence. Admittedly, her revision made it more appealing to him. “A vow!”

“Um, a what?” Severa asked, but looked down when she noticed Cynthia shift Ophelia into one arm, and she put her hand in front of her.

When they were teenagers making promises to survive a dismal future, they used to do this. Owain recognized the gesture. Inigo and Severa clearly did too. Inigo was the first person to respond to it, sliding a gloved hand to lay over his Queen's. Owain watched her brighten up, and Inigo flashed her a smile. “I think I could use a promise to make good on.” He said.

Severa slid her hand in, but blushed like she thought it was stupid. They hadn't done this in _years_. Probably almost ten. Almost a decade since they were just children. Afraid. Missing their parents. Frantically trying to just be _kids_ instead of soldiers. “Yeah okay, whatever.”

Owain grinned and laid his hand over hers, clasping down to make sure they were all united. Cynthia nodded her head at him and beamed. “No one dies.” She said with determination. “Got it? That's it, that's the whole promise. All of us live to get old and wrinkly, alright? Even Inigo.”

“Er, pardon?” Inigo asked, “I had assumed I was included in the 'don't die' arrangement the whole time!”

“You were! But no one in your family ever wrinkles. What's the deal? Doesn't matter though—if you get old enough you'll get wrinkly too, I'm sure of it. And we are _all_ going to see it.”

“Um—I'm not so sure I want you all to stand around looking for wrinkles on my face..”

“Too late! All our hands are in, the vow's been made!” Cynthia grinned. She bounced her hand beneath them, prompting them all to raise their arms. “ To wrinkly-Inigo!” She said, like she was making a toast.

“I'm going to die of _shame_.” Inigo murmured. Severa laughed at him, a bright laugh that Owain was glad to hear after her earlier irritation.

Owain chuckled at the thought, too, and he said “If you die of shame how will we see your magnificent wrinkles? Live on, Inigo, for the sake of our hopes and dreams!”

“None of your hopes and dreams need to be about my wrinkles!”

On the contrary, living a long and happy life with Inigo at his side was Owain's _greatest_ hope and dream.

 

…

 

Owain never regret the decision he made to send Soleil and Ophelia away from the castle. He missed Cynthia's optimism and he certainly missed spending his evenings holding his daughter, but it had been for the best. There had been no threats directly to the castle since that decision, but there had been numerous raids. So far they had contained them the best they could, but it was beginning to get hopeless. It was obvious that defending themselves alone would not get them through this trial.

It took four months.

Four months was so long to go without seeing his daughter. Would she even remember who he was? Not likely. Not to mention Soleil, who likely _could_ remember her father, but would have more and more trouble with each passing day. It was hard to put on a brave face and pretend that just because it was for the best, that it wasn't painful.

Four long months after he sent his family away, that was when he _finally_ was able to make contact with Flavia. She arrived looking remarkably the same as she always had. Her armor red, dinged up, and her laugh full of confidence. Owain hoped that was a good sign.

“Since this war started Feroxi people have been divided. It's been work, but I've been working hard to drive that rift even deeper.” She said. Chrom nodded his head at her.

“Yes, I've heard that East and West Ferox are at arms with each other.”

“Before we were united as Regna Ferox, our land was two separate kingdoms. Having two Khans has worked thus far in maintaining such a large country, but...”

“But Aurello.” Chrom nodded. “He's... something else.”

“He's a piece of horse shit if you ask me.” Flavia corrected. Chrom chuckled. Owain was surprised she'd resisted cursing prior to that. “Listen up, it wasn't _easy_ getting here unnoticed. I have some good news for you: now that a full blown civil war has broken out in Ferox, Aurello is going to withdraw a good deal of his soldiers from Ylisse. That sack of crap had no business trying to steal holy lands anyway. Bastard.”

“How is a civil war good news?” Owain argued. “Flavia, this is _horrible_. Feroxi people will be afraid and confused. How are you going to win this war?”

“The pieces will come together. I have to kill him. Well—I _want_ to kill him. But anyone can do it, I suppose. Once he's kicked the bucket I'll take over the whole of Regna Ferox again. While we're limited to one Khan I'll begin passing new laws about our military. No one man should be allowed to organize a war for no reason. There needs to be an agreement. Basilio and I always saw eye to eye... we should have seen this coming.”

Honestly Owain thought it was a stupid way to be. Why would they let one person rule entirely? Even Owain had to make decisions based upon a council, and advisers, and his _uncle_. “I'm still not comfortable with the idea of you walking headlong into a hopeless war. If you're killed the results could be catastrophic.”

“The vast majority of Feroxi soldiers don't want to fight a war at all.” Flavia said. “They're sick of it, for one thing. We've had about enough blood to sate us for a long while. Even the West Ferox crowd wants to sit this out. None of them want to fight Ylisstol... They have a great deal of respect for what the Exalt stands for, after all.” She took in a breath. Not nearly as deep as the breath Owain took, because he could feel it coming. “You know what I'm going to ask now, don't you kid?”

“You want me to aid you in Ferox.”

 

…

 

This was it.

This was the moment Owain had been dreading since he'd first made his decision not to let Severa or Inigo go to war. He was in his study, now. With them. Inigo was sitting casually on the side of the desk and Severa had her feet propped up on it and was tipping back on the legs of the chair she occupied, and Owain thought that any other day it would be funny to push her back so she lost her balance.

Not today.

“Chrom and I spoke with Flavia.”

“What?” Inigo asked, turning to look at Owain.

“I didn't even know she was _here_!” Severa added. “What did she say?”

“Regna Ferox is in the middle of a civil war. Most of the soldiers want to side with Ylisse, not against it, and... the best way to build and motivate her army to fight for what they believe in is to show it to them.” Owain honestly wasn't against the plan. If the people of Ferox wanted to fight for Ylisse's Exalt instead of against him, they should. And if it meant that walking among the soldiers would inspire them and bring them together in a joint cause to dethrone an awful Khan... well Owain would proudly give himself to the cause. “Once Aurello has been killed she plans to take over as Khan and regulate the laws that allowed something like this to happen. And to reinstate the neutrality pact. I'm going to join her. Chrom and the Shepherds as well.”

Inigo and Severa exchanged glances, but then both seemed to nod their head in approval. “If we're going to get rid of that ass then sign me up.” Severa said. “I've been itching to punch him since day one.”

“The sooner we resolve this the better. Are you planning to take many Ylissian troops?” Inigo asked.

“No. Flavia agreed that it wouldn't be necessary. The fewer Ylissian people there the better, really, because it isn't our war. We want to motivate the Feroxi people, not imply that they're too weak to go it alone. It will only be the shepherds—not even all of them—and myself.”

“Alright! So when do we leave?” Severa asked, and that was the moment. That was the exact moment Owain had to say it.

“You don't.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry?”

Inigo and Severa spoke in unison. Inigo slid off the desk and Severa slammed herself back upright in the chair, with all four legs on the ground. Both of them seemed unsure of themselves, but even more unsure of Owain. “I love you two _way_ too much to stand here and order you into battle. I won't do it. You two are staying here, to protect Ylisstol with Frederick and Cordelia.”

“Excuse me? You can't _do that_!” Severa shouted. Her inside voice was forgotten. Inigo's, remarkably, seemed to be too.

“We swore ourselves as your _retainers_ Owain, protecting you from battle is exactly what we're meant for! Don't be absurd!”

“No!” Well Owain didn't mean to shout, but when both of them were shouting at him he had to in order to be heard over them. They both straightened a little bit, but that didn't make Inigo look any less panicked or Severa look any less pissed off. “I am not willing to risk your lives! I need you both. You're _staying here_. That's an order.”

“ _Ugh_! I hate you!” Severa shouted. She stormed off after that, and she slammed the door hard. Owain winced. He had... sort of been expecting anger. It was alright. He knew she didn't hate him. She would cool down eventually. Inigo on the other hand seemed too stunned to really yell anymore. Eventually he sat back down on the desk, and reached out for Owain's hand. He used it to draw him closer, and he pulled his knuckles up to his mouth to kiss.

“I'll die if you don't come back.” He whispered. “I hate this selfless nonsense. Be selfish. It's safer.” He pulled Owain's hand away from his mouth and instead guided it to his cheek. Owain felt a sad smile on his lips when Inigo nuzzled against his hand like that, and he brushed his fingertips back and through Inigo's hair.

“Everything will be fine. No man nor beast has yet defeated Owain Dark, Hero of Ages.”

“There's a first time for everything, you know.”

Owain nodded his head. He did know that. He stepped forward so that Inigo's legs were forced to separate to accommodate him, and he leaned down to kiss him where his neck met his shoulder. Inigo hugged him, wrapped his arms around him like he could trap him there forever, even crossed his ankles behind Owain's legs so he couldn't back up.

“What gives you the idea that you're so special?” Inigo asked, and Owain couldn't tell if he was genuinely curious or somewhat bitter. “A legend among heroes... you're made of blood and bones just like Severa and I. You could die just as easily. Why should you have to suffer through another war without us? We _support each other_. We've always been together. If we can fight down dragons side by side, one ignorant man can't be so difficult.”

Owain turned his head to kiss Inigo's bangs. “This isn't up for debate. You're staying here, where I know you'll be safe.”

“But how will I know that you'll be safe?” There it was. A crack in his voice. Owain had hoped he might avoid this, but it seemed Inigo had reached his limits. He lowered his arms and wrapped them tight around Inigo's back. Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer.

Inigo worried that Owain was being selfless, too much so. He worried that Owain was giving up too much for the good of others. Couldn't he see?

Leaving Severa and Inigo behind was selfish. It was how Owain was sure that he wouldn't lose anyone else to war. Owain thought perhaps he was the most selfish man alive.

 


	13. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle beginssssssssssss! The fate of the war is about to be determined.

“So the plan is to ambush him before he can ambush us?”

Owain could have rolled his eyes but he was too amused by how many times the Taguel had repeated the question. Fortunately he didn't have to answer it, because Brady did it for him. “Are you shittin' me Yarne? Yes! How many times are you gonna ask that! I'm _beggin' ya_ ta stop!”

The company of Yarne and Brady had helped fill the silence left by Severa and Inigo, but it had hardly filled the hole. It wasn't the same. Owain trusted Severa and Inigo more than he thought he trusted himself. Why had he left them behind?

Oh yes... so that they would be safe.

“H-Hey! You can't be too cautious! I'm just making sure I know the plan. Which is to ambush him before he can ambush us. ...Right?”

“I'll kill ya!”

“Eep!”

“Guys!” Owain snorted. “It's alright. The plan is to cut through the mountains and ambush Khan Aurello's camp. The mountains are pretty dangerous. The air is cold enough to freeze at night and the cliffs are unstable. They won't have as many soldiers stationed there. If any.”

“That's what they _want you_ to think!” Yarne squirmed while he walked, and his ears flopped back nervously. “Don't you think it's obvious we're going through the mountains? It's the fastest route!”

Owain had to admit, it seemed obvious to him, too. But maybe that was just because this wasn't his first rodeo? Or second. Or even third. He supposed he was used to taking obscure paths to get to a destination. “It's hardly faster than going the safer methods, when you consider how the mountain conditions will slow us down.”

They had almost made their way through all of East Ferox. That was, of course, Flavia's territory. They would reach the fort at the base of the mountain ranges by nightfall, almost certainly. The march had been hell. Every day's walk leading up to this moment, it had led to the way that Owain's legs felt like jelly under him. He wanted to admit it, to say it out loud. He felt weak. It was everything he had not to lean on the staff he carried like a walking stick.

But to who? His mother might baby him, he supposed. She may suggest he sit up on the caravan with her. Of course that also meant talking to her, which was more and more of a chore lately because she _knew_.

That was to say, she knew Owain was in love with someone other than his wife. She just didn't know who. She tried to work it out of him at least once a day, and he didn't want to risk that conversation when his thoughts were already jumbled up with Inigo.

Anyone else he tried to complain to might try to encourage him. They'd tell him that he was an inspiration to them. They would treat him like he was a figurehead. He supposed he was, but...

 _Jeez! We still have half a_ day _left! You're the Exalt, remember? Don't be a pansy!_

 _Ah, well, this won't do. Won't the_ great _Owain Dark find strength and motivation in the smiling faces of his dearest friends? Yes, I think I can muster a smile for you._

Gawds _you're gross! Do you ever stop flirting? Besides you're not doing any better. I can see your wimpy dancer knees buckling. I guess it_ is _a pretty long way to walk..._

He wanted to hear them bicker. He wanted their company, and he felt innately lonely in spite of the fact that he was surrounded by comforting faces. This was the first time since he could honestly remember that he was facing an adventure _without_ them. He almost wished... Well, he couldn't wish that. They deserved to be safe at the castle. He couldn't wish for them to be with him.

“...ain?? Hello? Are you in there?”

“What?” Owain blinked a few times, and when he focused he realized that Kjelle was in front of him. How had she gotten there? “I...”

“Good grief. We're at war, Owain! Keep your guard up!” Kjelle scolded him. Scolded the Exalt! And he almost smiled at her, because she hadn't stopped to consider she was lecturing her ruler. “Flavia and Chrom are asking for you up front. Go on, then!”

Owain nodded absently. Catch up with Chrom and Flavia? He would have to jog a distance. He sort of wondered if his legs would even _do that_. When he left, he heard the faint voices of Kjelle and Brady, and the whisper of his name.

 

…

 

It was cold, even just at the base of the mountains, that night. Owain supposed he knew he should be asleep. Preparing for another day of marching on legs that felt like they would give out under him—except this time upwards and on jagged cliffs. Sleep was hard to find.

His thoughts drifted to Soleil and Ophelia. It had been months since he had seen either of them, and he missed them. He hated that they wouldn't remember him... but he trusted Cynthia to fill their infant heads with stories of their incredible fathers. Ophelia might still be small yet, but Soleil would be growing like a weed by now. She was drawing close upon her first birthday, and Owain wasn't sure that he would be there to see it.

At least, he supposed, Inigo would.

He walked without armor through the field that the fort was nestled in. He supposed he knew it was a risk. Didn't he know by now that he should be armed at all times? These were not the gardens at Castle Ylisstol. There was nothing familiar or safe about it. The land was open, there weren't even many trees to hide behind.

Lon'qu had raised him better than to walk unarmed into a strange place.

He felt similar to the way he felt when he first became the Exalt. His head was swimming and full of logic but none of it made sense. Logically joining Flavia was the best choice. Logically leaving his friends behind was for the best. Logically walking head long into battle in the _fourth_ war of his life was the obvious choice. It all pointed to a quick end to a pointless and fruitless war, and an ending in which his friends were safe and sound. Still, his head felt thick and heavy and groggy. His instincts wanted him to turn and run. He had a bad feeling about it. All of it.

But he wasn't gifted with prophecy. He was just afraid.

His eyes followed the horizon and he watched the gentle blowing of the tall grass in the brisk wind. He noticed the way the moonlight reflected off the particular flowers that grew here. They reminded him of his lover's hair. He noticed the shape of people approaching, and at first he ignored it. At first his head was so clouded that he thought it was nothing to be concerned about, but then...

Well then he choked on a gasp. People! At night! Approaching the fort! He reached for his sword and his earlier thoughts plagued him. He was stupid to have left it behind. He looked around for a tree to duck behind but there was none near him. He looked up again. One of the people raised their hand, and pointed at him. The other hesitated, and then stared. From so far away it was hard to make out who it was, but...

Owain was not afraid anymore.

He didn't know why, and he didn't know _how_ , but he knew who it was the moment he saw the shapes run towards him. This wasn't what he wanted, part of him thought. He wanted them to stay back in Ylisstol. He wanted them to be as far away from bloodshed as possible. And yet the other part of him was ecstatic.

She got to him first, and in spite of her normal demeanor she ran into his arms. She curled them around Owain's neck and tightened them threateningly when he picked her up off the ground and twirled her in a circle. _“Hey!”_ she balled her fist and smashed it into his shoulder. “Don't do that! Put me down!”

He obliged, and Severa stepped at least three steps out of his arms, like she felt like that had been enough hugging for the next month. “Gods, we were worried you'd already died or something.” She muttered. “I'm glad you're not. Dead, I mean.”

He almost said something to her, but Inigo caught up. Owain couldn't focus on anything else, because his retainer reached out and gripped him by his hair, pulling their faces together in a kiss that was hardly elegant. Owain made a noise of surprise when Inigo's tongue wrapped around his own, and Severa made a retching noise.

“Ew! What did I say about doing that in front of me?” She asked. Inigo took a small step back. Far less of a distance than Severa had. His face was dusted pink from her sharp comment, but neither of them took it to heart. Severa had worked pretty hard to ensure they got together in the first place, after all.

“What...” Owain tried, and he laughed entirely in disbelief. “What are you both doing here? I gave you orders to stay...”

“Mm, Milord never said _how long_ we were to stay in Ylisstol.” Inigo said. Owain didn't even have it in him to be mad about his title, he just couldn't get over it. They were here, like the heavens had heard his wishes.

“I wanted to keep you two out of this war.”

“Um, who even gave you the right to tell us what to do? Do you think your stupid tiara means shit to us?” Severa asked. She positioned her hands on her hips. “Maybe I wanted to fight in the war, huh? I'm pretty sick of this stupid Aurello guy anyway.”

“So then you planned to leave Ylisstol the whole time?” Owain realized, more than asked, but why had it taken so long? “Why did it take so long for you to catch up?”

Severa snorted and Inigo blushed and chuckled. “We had to go take a detour to see your kids. Inigo sang for them. It was gross. Well—sort of cute.” She shrugged like she wasn't all that affected by it, but Owain was sort of glad Inigo had stopped to see them. Specifically because it meant they were doing well, still.

“There's no harm in visiting them! I love those girls!” Inigo defended himself. “Besides, it gave me the chance to check in with my father and on the security of the fort. Everything is safe and sound.” Inigo glanced at Owain again, and then added, “Ophelia is sitting up all on her own now (and she looks just like you!), and Soleil is crawling. Two very grown up little ladies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Severa interrupted. “Somehow you idiots made cute babies. Let's just go get this stupid war over with fast so you can get back and see them before they're teenagers or something.”

Owain was overwhelmed. His head was still swimming but he felt like he'd seen a light. Still, concern crashed into him like a wave, and he thought he might sway and fall off his feet. They were going to _war_. Severa's comment made him think back to the deep realms that were scattered throughout Nohr and Hoshido, and about the few children that were born during the war there. It gave new meaning to growing up fast, but... well, he was glad they weren't using a similar method. This war would be over within a fortnight, with luck, and... and it meant that everyone would be safe and sound.

That said, it didn't stop Owain from wondering what it might be like to crawl into a perfect deep realm and stay forever.

 

…

 

The evening sun was hanging low in the sky when it happened.

The journey through the mountains had been easy enough. Almost too easy, Inigo supposed, but not so easy that he had been worried. None of them had. There was talk of making camp for the night (knowing that come morning they would launch their attack) and Inigo was thinking up excuses to sneak into Owain's tent. If they were meant to face battle in the morning there was no reason not to try and ease as many of his lord's worries as possible, right?

That was when he noticed it. “ _Get down!_ ” He'd shouted, and he practically tackled Owain. When they lifted their heads an arrow had whizzed past them, landed near Severa's feet, and shock painted Owain's face.

Owain never liked being shot at, but Inigo knew that the look on the Exalt's face when he realized Inigo had almost been shot saving him clearly reflected his history with arrows. Inigo wished he could kiss his face and tell him it was alright—no one had been shot—but he was too distracted with the fact that arrows were flying. People were shouting, and rushing them, and Lon'qu ran out ahead, with Chrom.

“It's an ambush!” Chrom hollered, and that seemed to rally the troops. Flavia ordered her men forward. Owain got to his feet quickly and drew Falchion from it's holster. Inigo saw a flock of falcon knights led by Sumia rush ahead.

Brady shouted, Kjelle rushed ahead, Yarne roared and shifted forms, and Inigo's pulse quickened. He took his place at Owain's side. Severa stood on his opposite. How?

Aurello led the assault. He was by no means hiding, his axe in hand and his voice loud as he ordered his men forward. He knew about the ambush. Or, in the least, he'd figured it out. It could have happened a hundred ways. Word of mouth, rumors, even traitorous Feroxi people, but...

This was it.

“Keep faith!” Owain called out to the army as they prepared for battle. They had all been ready to rest, a long day's march behind them. None of them were prepared to fight. “If we win now we end the war!”

“Just stay back behind us, alright?” Severa ordered, as if she was in charge of Owain. Inigo had a mutual hope, but he could tell Owain had no intention to let them run ahead without him.

“What would our trio be without me?” He asked, and Inigo blurted,

“Much quieter.”

Owain grinned at him. Inigo meant it. Without Owain his life would be quiet. No animated arguments over which mythical beast was a more appropriate adversary. No quiet chuckles when Inigo and Severa bickered. No drawn out moans when they shared a bed. No Exalt, no liege, no lover...

No Owain.

The front line of enemy soldiers was fast approaching. Men rushed them with axes and swords drawn, armor clanking against blades. Inigo felt like it was a blur. His sword clashed against them and his vision was stained red with both anger and blood. A shout from Owain alerted him to a man approaching from his right, and he turned on his heel to swing his sword that way.

Overhead the sounds of wings beating grew stronger, and whinnies from the pegasus knights above them. Flavia's war cry resonated; he heard the sound of lightning crack through the sky in the form of a spell.

Severa shrieked.

Before the whole sound left her mouth Inigo was sure he and Owain were over-top her. Inigo cut down the woman who had sliced into Severa's arm and Owain knelt beside her and wrapped his palms around it. The white light combined with the pressure he put there slowed the bleeding, and she hissed at him and pushed herself out of his grip.

“I'm fine, I'm fine! It just surprised me! Jeez, watch your back!”

When the first line seemed to break Inigo finally felt like he was coming out of the dreamlike state he was in. Time moved faster than he thought it had, the world around him was still there. He looked at Severa and Owain and he released a breath. Both still alive. Severa was bleeding, though.

“Go, have my mother mend that.” Owain was saying to her. Inigo shook his head. Severa would never admit to being weakened, but she looked pale and Inigo had a feeling walking alone may result in a fall.

“Go with her. I'll check the bodies for anything worth taking and meet up with you. Alright?” Most of the army had advanced forward by now, continuing to break away at Aurello's. Inigo watched concern flash across Owain's face. Was he worried about Inigo? There was no reason for that. “Go on! I'll be right behind you!”

“I can go by myself idiot.” Severa argued quietly, but Inigo could _see_ her slump into Owain's arm when he moved to support her.

“Hurry up.” Owain directed him, and Inigo didn't mind. He never truly minded when Owain gave him orders. He'd signed up to be his retainer, he knew it would come with the occasional task. He nodded his head and began to backtrack towards the bodies that were fallen.

He hated killing.

Someday he wanted to wash his hands of all the bloodshed. How many men had died at his hand? He wasn't one for playing god.

He was standing up from a body when it happened. It started as a shocking sting in the back of his calf, but sure enough a hot wave of pain spread out from the spot and his knee buckled. Inigo yelped, but it hardly mattered—he was alone. The rest of the battle was far away. He fell to his knees and hardly _thought_ when he grappled for the arrow. It had only just barely sank into his leg, and he ripped it out without much thought for the open wound that created.

He looked around.

Where was he? “Gods...” he whispered. An archer was sneaking around here and Inigo had no idea where—he was a sitting duck. He spun in a slow circle but stopped moving entirely when he came face to face with a person.

Not a person he knew. Hot breath pushed against Inigo's face when the man exhaled, and Inigo stumbled back a step. “What--”

_Run._

It burned. His leg felt like fire was shooting up it, and he could feel the fabric of his pants was damp. In fact, and he hated to admit it, he could feel it slipping down into his boot, and blood pooled near his foot.

It hurt. Nothing as badly as it would hurt to be caught by that man, however. In front of him loomed a steep group of cliffs, a long drop to certain death, he imagined. A glance over his shoulder told Inigo he was caught.

He swung. He brought down his sword just in time to block a swing of an axe, but turning to face his pursuer gave him an unwelcome realization: there were two men. He was injured _and_ outnumbered. How had they come here? Had they hidden? Laid among the dead for a chance to kill the Exalt?

Worry flooded him. What if Owain and Severa were attacked? He couldn't focus on that. He held up against the axe but the strength of the other man and the will of gravity were both against Inigo. He knew, he just knew, he was going to break. He just wasn't sure if his arms would give out first, or his leg.

The answer was both. The other man got in a good swing while Inigo was distracted by the first. A scream ripped through Inigo as the axe cut through his hip, he swore he thought he felt the blade bounce off of his bone. He dropped his sword entirely, he had to, and he clutched at the wound on his hip. Far worse than his leg (which by now felt numb anyway), this wasn't an acute puncture, but instead a long gash.

What could he do? He was backed to a cliff. He was too injured to carry on fighting. He couldn't retreat. Finally his bloodied leg gave out and Inigo stumbled backwards two more steps. Over the pulsing in his ears and the taste of fear in his mouth Inigo became acutely aware of something new: a crack. He didn't have time to process what it meant until the ground beneath his heel crumbled entirely.

He _fell_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm crying you guys i wrote a cliff hanger that actually took place ON a cliff isn't that just peachy no joke i texted my friend about this like a week ago bragging about it tbh.


	14. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you came equipped with all your S rank weapons and like 3000 healing items because weLComE to EndGamE. 
> 
> Aka the war ends.

The sky was always a little bit brighter when Cynthia flew through it. The sight of his wife was actually more comforting than Owain had expected—although he had to admit he hadn't expected Cynthia to show up with a fleet of reinforcements. He left Severa with Lissa while he ran to meet her, and she leaned down to embrace him with one arm, but a moment later she slid down off of her steed and hugged him properly. After she stepped back Owain chuckled—her hair was up in pigtails as it had been when they were teenagers. Like Severa, he supposed she never grew out of them.

“The incredible Cynthia is here! I'm not usually one for making a last minute entrance—obviously--but we got caught in some winds!” Owain knew she hated to be late to make an entrance. They'd had that argument as kids and often referenced the dismal tale of grief that went with it. Honestly to see Cynthia standing here, clad in her armor and pumped for battle... well it was almost amusing, considering she'd been grounded for so long.

“Ophelia and Soleil..?”

“They're still at the fort with Henry and Olivia! What? You thought I'd bring them here? Soleil can _almost_ walk, let me just hand her a weapon while she's at it.” Cynthia giggled like that was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.

“No—I knew—ha,” Owain tried to chuckle at her joke, but he was... concerned. About everything. “We've been able to fight back Aurello's troops thus far, the cliffs are actually giving us a little bit of an advantage from above them, but...”

“But?”

“But Inigo was supposed to meet up with us and I can't _find him_. Anywhere.”

“He's fine!” Cynthia blurted, and Owain almost hoped that meant she'd seen him... but he knew he'd dared to hope for too much when she looked almost bashful. “I mean he's _probably_ fine. We made a vow, remember? He's got to be fine so we can see his wrinkles! But... if you're that worried.... I'll take a lap and see if I can track him down. You just stay focused, alright? Don't get distracted!”

Relief flooded him while she ordered her army of pegasus knights to defer to Sumia. She would be able to fly around quickly and see if she could find him. He _was_ probably fine. Maybe he'd gone ahead to join Chrom and Brady and their other friends? Still, he gripped her wrist and pulled her into a quick hug before she flew off. “Cynthia _be careful_. They came prepared for our Falcon Knights, there are archers everywhere.”

“You think I can't handle a couple puny archers? I'll trample all over them! Me and Inigo (who is totally fine!) are going to fly through the sky cutting down anyone who dare raise arms against us! But I'll be careful. Promise.”

Owain leaned forward to kiss her forehead and nodded at her. “We're going to push forward.”

 

…

 

Inigo's head bounced off of a rock when he dropped onto the landing. The drop had only been a few feet, but enough that he knew he couldn't climb back up on his own—even if he had been in climbing condition. For a moment he laid there, unmoving. His head throbbed. His eyes dusted with speckles of black and white, and he wanted to go to sleep. He also wanted to _throw up_. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. His side even more so. He wanted to just _die_. Was that so much to ask? Relief from all this pain?

But he couldn't. He didn't have time to die, he didn't even have time to faint (in spite of the way his vision clouded). The first of the two men slid down the side of the cliff, and then the other, and Inigo staggered to his feet. Then his leg crumpled under him, and he remembered that he'd been shot before and _where was that archer_?

They easily backed him to the edge of the cliffs again. He didn't bother looking how far down the drop was because it could have been less than one foot and Inigo knew if he fell again he would just die. He would die if he fell, he would die if he stood there, he would die _no matter what_.

He should have gone with Owain and Severa. He hated himself for not going with them. The last things he ever said to Owain were going to be that he'd be right behind him, and that was a lie. The man who reached him first raised his axe, and Inigo prayed he would be merciful and kill him quickly.

“Never fear!” Cynthia cried.

 _Cynthia_.

She swooped in on her pegasus and speared down the man who meant to kill Inigo. The other man nicked her with his axe and she was fine it seemed. A shallow cut, but she said “Hey! My shirt! Do you know how proud I was to fit into this? You ruined it! Beware the wrath of Cynthia, um!”

She missed him with her spear, but with no missed beat her pegasus kicked the man—and he fell. Inigo fell too, but not off of the cliff. Just to his knees as relief flooded him so quickly. Cynthia grinned at him.

“I need a name, like Owain's. I think it would make me cooler—did you think? Because really Owain Dark sounds way cooler than _just_ Owain. I'm thinking about 'Dusk'. How does Cynthia Dusk sound? Oh—woah, that looks bad.”

Inigo clasped his side with his hand, again, but it was still bleeding. He felt _so weak_ , and Cynthia was just going on and on about how she should be _Cynthia Dusk—Pegasus Master._ And it sounded incredible, honestly. Inigo thought it matched Owain perfectly, and he would have normally chuckled and said as much in his flirty tone of voice, but he couldn't because he was by no means in the mood for flirting.

Inigo didn't see where it came from, but he saw it happen. In slow motion, even. Cynthia made a noise torn between a gasp and a scream and fell. The Pegasus was spooked, it flew away, and she landed in front of Inigo in a pile of what was beautiful butt-kicking majesty only seconds ago. _This time_ , Inigo found him as he tried to retreat. He wasn't strong enough to do it but he scrambled for Cynthia's javelin and flung it as hard as he could—and he caught the archer just well enough for him to crash down to the cliffs below.

Inigo hoped he died.

His attention turned to Cynthia. Her chest was heaving and she was breathing erratically and Inigo could tell she was panicking. He found new strength when she fell—strength he didn't know his body had been reserving. There was an arrow lodged in the center of her chest, and Inigo didn't understand how it had spiked in just below her breastplate. The archer had been below them, yes, but to have such sophisticated aim as to puncture someone's chest _under_ their armor... it was absurd. He'd never even heard of it—and he knew his fair share of talented marksmen.

The first thing he did was shift closer to her, and start to unstrap her armor. It clattered to the ground and she gasped again, and Inigo felt the prick of the arrowhead pushing through her back. It had gone _clean through_ , he realized, and that was horrifying.

He was so dizzy and nauseous and gods knew he wanted to throw up instead of break off the arrow, but he had to. He _had_ to. “I-Ini-Inigo d-don't.” Cynthia whimpered. Her voice sounded so raspy and scared and Inigo was distracted enough to look at her face, where she coughed red.

Cynthia's injury terrified him. Inigo had already accepted his death by the time she arrived (he still was!) and he didn't mind that his leg felt like knives prodding him or that his hip was a rift of fire spreading--oozing--up and down his side. Hell, he'd even ignored the blood dribbling down his forehead from his hairline, where his head and collided with the rock when he fell.

He couldn't accept her death. It wasn't going to happen. “Y-You have to be okay.” He argued. She had to! She had to. She was the queen! She was the queen, and Ophelia was still just a baby, and Owain loved Cynthia so much—Inigo _loved Cynthia so much_. She was his hero. “I'm going to get this a-arrow out. Your p-pegasus will be back with h-help in no time.” Most of them were trained to seek out other knights when their rider fell. It was a way to guide them back, to get them help.

“Y-yes, b-but...” She moaned in pain. No doubt because Inigo broke the arrow off in that moment, and he didn't let her finish.

“N-no buts!” He shifted her, let her head rest on his shoulder while he steadied her body and gripped the arrow to pull it back out. She hissed and gasped and choked and he talked to her, hoping it might soothe her somewhat. “Rest your pretty head m-milady. As soon as they arrive they'll heal you, and I'll have all the dirty work out of the way.”

It was out. It was out, but Cynthia's breaths sounded gargled and strained. Inigo worried. What if... what if that arrow had punctured her lungs? What if she was suffocating on her own blood, and he was doing nothing to stop it? He shifted her—with his own noise of pain—until she was positioned comfortably on the ground. From there he removed his dirtied gloves and pressed his palms against the wound. She whimpered and whined and Inigo began to cry.

“You have to live,” He whispered. “Ophelia needs you—Owain needs you. He'll hate me if you die over me.”

“D-Don't be s-s-stupid.” Cynthia smiled at him, and how could she smile? It looked so strained and weak, and she looked so pale. Too pale. Her skin was getting chilled and she was shaking and Inigo pulled his hands off of her so he could strip off his armor and give her his outer shirt. He laid it over her shoulders like it could blanket her. She didn't protest that, but she said “O-Owain needs _y-you_.”

Shouts. Inigo could hear shouts in the distance, but he wasn't concerned if it was friends or foes. No matter how he held his hands against her chest, the bleeding just wouldn't stop. A healer's magic only went so far. He had to keep her alive. His head was swirling. He was dizzy again. A glance at his side was all it took to see his undershirt was entirely soaked red from the injury on his hip. Was that still bleeding? He didn't think he had any blood left in him to shed, really. He was shivering too, but he supposed he didn't notice. The adrenaline guiding him to save his queen, that was all that was pushing him on.

How could she suggest that Owain needed him, as if he needed him more than he needed her? “Ylisse needs you too.” He could hear shaking in his voice and tears in his voice and it didn't sound like he was talking. It sounded like he was listening to someone else as words came out of his mouth. “I... I n-need you. I need you to stay alive so I can th-thank you.”

Her voice was so much quieter when she said “D-drink the elixir.”

An elixir? She had one? He cursed that she hadn't mentioned it earlier. She needed it, she needed it so badly. She must have read his mind, because she said “It won't d-do me any g-good, In-Inigo. You're b-b-b-bleeding m-more than m-me.”

Maybe he was, but he wasn't bleeding from his chest. His lower body was already so numb, he barely felt the pain unless he was shifting around. He hissed when he stretched to reach for her pouch, and sure enough a vial of hardly enough elixir to be considered one dose was there. Yes, he was bleeding, but who cared? He couldn't feel the blood on his side or his leg, he could only feel where his head felt crusted.

If he lost both of his legs and never danced again it would be a small price to pay to save Cynthia's life. It took him too long to tug out the cork, and right away he sat back up. As soon as he sat up he collapsed, too dizzy from moving so fast. He was so thankful he hadn't spilled the vial. “H-here, drink this...” He whispered. “M-maybe there's still t-time.”

“No!”

It was the loudest she'd been able to speak and Inigo was afraid she'd given up, that she wanted to expend the last of her energy on this moment. He hated the idea.

“What about Soleil?”

Inigo cried harder when she asked him that. What about Soleil? Would she remember the time she had with her father before she was orphaned? He didn't know. He'd meant to come back to her. Cynthia went on.

“Be there f-for Soleil. G-go home. Be there f-for Y-Ylisse. I w-was never the one he was m-meant to... you're m-meant to be our prince.”

“How can you say that?!” his voice was like a wail, full of sorrow and fear. “You've done nothing but good—and Ophelia--”

“P-Please! L-Love her, for me.”

Inigo shook his head, and instantly regretted it. His eyes were foggy again. He couldn't see, but he whimpered “This is starting to sound too much like a dying wish. Don't give up, don't...”

He felt her hand brush his, despite the fact that he couldn't clear the haze in front of his eyes. He hesitantly stopped applying pressure with it, and wrapped his bloodied hand around hers.

“I want you to be _happy_.” Cynthia choked. _Choked_. On blood. She hacked and coughed and Inigo could hear it was wet. Her hand was like ice in his. She was _dying_. This was his fault. “Don't w-worry about me. I... I'll finally b-b-be with M-Morgan.”

Inigo couldn't push away the shadows at his eyes, not at all. He was going to faint, he knew it. Before he did, though, he pushed the vial against Cynthia's lips an poured the Elixir into her mouth. She whimpered.

Inigo fainted.

 

…

 

“There they are!” Sumia shouted. Lissa was behind her on her pegasus. Severa was atop Cynthia's steed, with Owain riding with her, and together the four of them landed on the cliff. Before Owain even stepped off of the pegasus he knew it smelled like death. They were in a heap—Inigo's body fallen over Cynthia's. Severa was the first one to do anything about it. She tugged Inigo off of her by his arms—but she hesitated.

Owain watched her with wide eyes.

“Oh n-no...” she whispered. “He's so c-cold...”

Owain swallowed a lump in his throat and watched as Severa laid Inigo down on his back, only having dragged him couple of feet away from Cynthia. “I think they're...” Severa whispered.

Owain felt like he was paralyzed. He couldn't move anything. How... how could they both be dead? He loved them both so much—they were both so important to him, he... he couldn't process it. Sumia and Lissa ran to Cynthia, they knelt on the ground. Sumia pulled her daughter's body close and sobbed, and hugged her to her chest, and Lissa didn't even _try_ to heal her, because it was obvious they were much too late for that.

“She smells like elixir.” Lissa said.

Sumia nodded her head, and said “there's some spilled on her face, he—oh _Inigo_ , he...”

He'd tried to save Cynthia. Owain didn't know how he felt about that. Should he be proud of him? He supposed he was, to some extent. He was proud that his retainer had put his duty first, and selflessly tried to save his queen but... How dare he? He was the one who had lectured Owain on being selfish in war. _He should have saved himself_.

Shaking legs held Owain up, but he didn't think he could walk on them. He was having a nightmare. He had sent Cynthia to a fort and left Inigo in Ylisstol so how... how had they both managed to find him, and die? _Die_. It was disgusting. Bitter. It burned his thoughts, and brought tears to his eyes, and...

Severa gasped. “ _Inigo's breathing!”_ She sputtered.

Owain's heart flew into his throat. He was sure if he hadn't had his mouth so tightly clamped shut it might just have left his body. Sumia stood up—she left Cynthia's side as soon as she thought she might be able to save one of them—either of them. Lissa pushed past Owain—pushed so she could fall to her knees and lift her staff and try to save him.

Finally Owain's legs moved. They took him to Cynthia, and he looked at her. He knelt down and held her face. It was a little sticky where the medicine had spilled over her lips and chin. Discarded not far from her were two pieces of the arrow that took her life. He pulled her to him, and he rested his cheek against her head. She was cold, and she was limp.

This was his worst nightmare.

Ophelia would never know her mother. She wouldn't get to meet the woman who was by far the brightest ball of sunshine in Ylisse. She would never have her to teach her to make flowers into rings and bracelets, or to show her how the flower fortunes worked. There would be no day when Cynthia and Ophelia came together to fill a bucket with flower petals and dump it over an unsuspecting person as they walked through a door.

Cynthia was gone.

She was the one who told him to chase his dreams. She pushed him to be happy first, and the Exalt later. She gave up a second chance at love so that Owain could love Inigo _and_ marry her. She put up with his jokes, his insecurities... she stayed up with him countless nights just to listen to him weave stories about how deeply he loved Inigo, or to quell his fears.

Severa knelt beside him. She sounded like she was going to cry, but he'd never met someone quite as good at hiding it as Severa. He hadn't even bothered to be strong, to stop crying. He was... well, a mess. He was a mess. “He tried to save her, Owain. He pulled out that arrow, his hands and clothes are covered in—he _obviously_ tried to stop the bleeding. He even gave her the medicine...”

“And now he may die a hero's death.” Owain whispered back. He tried, for a moment, to see past his mother. All he could see was the pink glow of light from her mend rod. Severa laid her head to the side, tilted it just enough that it landed on Owain's shoulder. He wondered if she was trying to blame herself. If she thought her arm injury had been trivial, and if she hadn't gone to be healed they could have saved him.

Owain hoped not. There was no sense in blaming herself. He wanted to blame himself too—it was instinct to try and imagine how fate may have taken a different turn, but... Neither of them would have wanted them to blame themselves. Severa said “He was cold. Lissa may not be able to bring him back, she... He was _so cold_.”

“I know.” Owain croaked. He had pretty good knowledge on how staves worked by then. If Inigo was dead he wouldn't be coming back. Even if he was alive he may not make it. Staves could only speed up the healing process, they couldn't make the body do anything it was incapable of doing on its own.

Chrom and Lon'qu had found them. Owain knew because another two falcon knights had joined them, and Chrom had stepped off the back of one. He looked... worried. They all were. Not only about the fate of Inigo, but about the fate of the kingdom. Ylisse had lost so much already, and Owain knew that the death of their queen would be a new heartbreak.

“I think he would have wanted Soleil to...” But Severa stopped mid thought when Lissa stood up. She turned away from Inigo and shook her head. Sorrow was clear on her face. She walked closer to her brother.

“That's all I can do. I guess it just wasn't enough...” She sniffled.

Owain wished he hadn't trusted Inigo to keep himself safe earlier. He wished he had made him come with them to take Severa to be healed. He choked on a sob that he tried to hold in. Severa slid her hand up his back. He leaned forward to kiss Cynthia's head, and then he laid her back down.

Inigo had been with him for so long. Owain walked on numb legs to his fallen lover. He fell more than he knelt, but no one worried over him. Before Severa said he was breathing, but Owain could see now that his chest was still. He was covered in blood, his own and Cynthia's both, most likely. He could see where the staff had began to heal up his side, to mend the skin, but it was still a ghastly sight. Inigo's hair was the color of moonlight, but in that moment it was stained red and crusted to his head. He seemed like he had taken so many more injuries than Cynthia, but he had still tried so hard to save her. It was noble. Owain would make sure everyone remembered him for his selflessness. His kindness. His smile. Gods... would Owain never see that smile again?

Chrom, Sumia, Lissa, Lon'qu... all of them were standing behind Owain but he couldn't let Inigo go without saying goodbye. If this was the last time he could kiss him before his lips were hard and icy, then he knew he would do so and just explain it later. What did it matter now who he was in love with? Inigo and Cynthia were _dead_. He leaned down and laid his lips over Inigo's, kissed his mouth and imagined he was alright. He imagined that they were flirting in the hedges, and that Inigo's fingers gripped his shirt to pull him closer. White magic slid between Owain's lips and Inigo's, but he knew it was entirely accidental. He just wanted him to live so badly...

He hugged his shoulders and tried his best not to pay attention to the murmurs being exchanged behind him. Yes, Lissa knew now. She was whispering with Sumia, who was pale as a ghost trying to take everything in. She was so strong—acting as a loyal knight in spite of her loss. Owain knew it was only a matter of time before she broke.

“Stupid...” Severa had mumbled, and Owain turned his head to see her wiping tears from her eyes. He sighed, and he started to lay Inigo back down.

He gasped. _Inigo_ gasped. It was raspy and airy and turned into choking, and before Owain could even properly lay him back down Severa yanked him away from Inigo by the collar of his shirt. Lissa ran forward, her magic lit bright and pink again. Sumia collapsed beside her to hold Inigo up while Lissa tilted an elixir down his throat. Severa sobbed.

She cried into his chest while Owain stared at his mother. She was working hard—she was sweating—Owain couldn't help but wonder if he could help. Instead he held on to Severa while she cried, until she composed herself and put her hands on Owain's forearms and she squeezed them so hard he thought it would bruise.

“He's alive!” She cried, and he looked at her with awe. Was he? Was this real? “What did you do? How did you—are you _actually_ living a fairytale? You just kissed him alive!” She wrapped her arms tightly around his chest, wound them like she would never let go. He'd never seen Severa come undone like this. She couldn't cope with all the feelings she had at once. It was obvious. He would have tried to comfort her if he wasn't so shocked.

Lon'qu crouched beside his wife and she whispered to him while she dressed the remains of Inigo's wounds. She was dressing his wounds. She thought they would heal. She nodded her head at him and Lon'qu scooped up Inigo in his arms. He was still fainted—he was by no means awake—but Inigo moaned in pain when he was lifted...

Owain had never been happier in his life to hear someone moan in _pain_. Lissa looked at her son and he waited for her verdict, and she said “He's breathing again! His heart is strong, I-I think he's going to be okay!”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but Owain didn't know how happy he could be. He was ecstatic that his lover was alive, obviously... but that didn't change the fact that Cynthia was dead. He buried his face into Severa's hair and he cried. For once in her life Severa didn't seem very opposed to snuggling.

Sumia dropped to her knees beside Cynthia, and finally her dam broke. The strong knight, Chrom's retainer, she shook with sobs and her chest heaved. She curled around her daughter, and Owain wished he could fix it.

The war was over.

 

…

 

There was no point in trying to travel that night. They made camp where they were, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen. The camp was somber and sulky, and everyone was... jittery. Before the night even fully fell the battle was won. By the time the fire was lighting their way, Lissa had decided to clean up both Cynthia and Inigo. Cynthia was easier—with only one wound and no risk of hurting her. When she was through Lissa had covered her with a veil and left her with Sumia. Inigo was more work. She had to change his bandages once and washing the blood out of his skin and hair was a task. Once it was done he looked so much better. He looked more _alive_ without all of that blood caked on his skin. Owain helped get him into new clothes, and to wrap his wounds, and Lissa was remarkably quiet.

All good things must end.

“Are you alright?” She asked him. Owain shook his head. No. He wasn't alright. Just because Inigo was alive now didn't mean he wouldn't succumb to his wounds overnight and be gone by morning. Just because the man he loved was alive didn't mean the woman he cherished was too. He shook his head and she sighed at him.

“This wasn't your fault.”

Yes it was. Or, at least, he wanted it to be his fault. If it was his fault perhaps it would mean more when he tried to repent for it.

“You saved his life, Owain.”

That... might have been true. The magic that passed between their mouths when he kissed Inigo—when he thought he was kissing him _goodbye—_ may very well have given his body the extra push to keep fighting. It had been an accident. It wasn't as if he knelt down knowing that he could kiss it all better. He hoped... that people wouldn't hear rumors of that.

Inigo was alive now, that was true. His breathing was labored and his chest struggled to rise and fall, and Lissa knew better than to say he was out of the woods yet.

“I had no idea.”

Owain finally looked at her, and she smiled a little sadly. Too sad for her normally cheerful face. Not a pout, not anger. Just sorrow mixed with relief. “You what?”

“That you loved him. It's so obvious now, but... I'm so glad he's alive. I hope he comes back to you. I'll do everything I can, sweetie, I promise.”

 

…

 

Sumia hadn't left Cynthia yet. It was drawing close to midnight, Owain knew, but he joined her in the tent where Cynthia's body lay. He took a seat on the floor across from Sumia, who had taken to braiding flowers into her daughter's hair. They had dressed her in one of her dresses, not in her armor. She looked beautiful.

Owain wanted to hear her laugh.

He wanted to talk to Sumia, but he found himself scared. She didn't say anything, and eventually Owain settled for drawing his hand along Cynthia's chilled face. It felt like ages that they sat in silence, before Owain finally tried to speak. “I-I would have given anything... anything at all, if...”

“I know you would.” Sumia had rims around her eyes and she looked exhausted from crying. He wondered if she could have cried again if she even tried. “Cynthia used to tell me about how much she loved you... and about how much you loved her. But she never failed to mention that you weren't _in love_.”

Owain was quiet, choosing not to interrupt. Sumia said “She used to tell me all about how you were best friends. She never told me who your lover was—or even if you had one. Lady Lissa and I just assumed you did, because... well because you told your mother you were in love with someone else before you were even married.”

Yes, Owain supposed he had said that.

“Cynthia wanted things to work with you badly, she felt... obligated. She wanted to ease your pain as you became the Exalt, but also... I think somehow she thought if she carried on the Exalted Bloodline, she might be making Morgan proud too.”

She didn't continue that train of thought. She backpedaled, she went back to Owain. He supposed talking about Morgan was just... more painful. Memories from when Cynthia was truly in love with someone... Owain wished he could have seen her that happy.

“Your mother and I... we used to guess who your lover was. We were _way off_.”

“You don't understand.” Owain finally interrupted. He wanted to make sure she knew. He wanted the world to know. “I love Cynthia beyond the stars. She's my wife—we're family—we...”

“I know you're mourning too.” Sumia whispered. Owain found himself hushed by her soft words. “Losing her is a burden we share. But you... you should also be celebrating that Inigo is alive. We all should celebrate—and maybe he'll be back to his dashing self within the week.”

“But...”

“He tried so hard to save her. Did you see? He left his own wounds untreated so he could take care of Cynthia—he's...” She sobbed, but it was dry and there were no tears in her eyes. “He's my hero, Owain. He tried to save my baby. Don't... don't spend all of your time mourning. Cynthia would want us both to celebrate, not cry.”

Owain cried. She may have run out of tears, but he thought he never would. He pulled his knees up and cried into his arms, and he was surprised when Sumia left the flowers where they laid and sat down beside him, and hugged him.

 

…

 

“You're up too late.”

Severa was usually long asleep by then, but Owain wondered if she was just as nervous as he was. He poked at the fire with a stick, and said “I can't sleep.”

She flopped beside him in the dirt, took the stick from his hands, and began prodding at the fire herself. It was low, only just embers by now, and the air was chilled. “You're worried about him?”

“I'm scared to death.”

“You've got to sleep sometime.” Severa muttered. “We've got to march back to East Ferox tomorrow. He'll probably be up with the sun, and asking for you. Do you really want me to have to say that you're too busy sleeping to come see him?”

“He won't be up tomorrow.”

She was quiet, and he wondered if anyone had really filled her in on Inigo's condition. He sighed. “We'll be lucky if he's up by the end of the day tomorrow, but... he's _really_ hurt. I don't think he'll recover that fast. The best way to heal is to sleep. Mom... mom will probably cast a sleeping spell on him, for the day. Just to make sure he gets plenty of rest.”

“Go to sleep then.” Severa grumped. “You know there's going to be negotiations and paperwork and all that boring crap you hate. Just sleep.”

She threw the stick into the fire and got up to go to her tent. Owain watched the stick catch.

Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be.

 

...

 

They made it back to Flavia's castle with ease. Most all of Regna Ferox was celebrating, but Owain was still crippled by anxiety and fear. Inigo still hadn't been awake, not really. Once or twice he murmured in his sleep, nothing more than a whimper.

For a while he had a fever. Lissa was able to control and calm it easily enough. She tried to convince Owain that a fever was normal, that it meant he was fighting to get better. All he knew was that he was terrified the first time he'd touched Inigo's skin and he was burning up. His mother told him that she thought his own healing magic was stronger than he knew. She said she really believed that it was what saved Inigo's life. She told him to use it, when he could. He took it to heart.

They were in and out of meetings constantly. Owain sat in on many of them. Flavia was trying to set up a new system. It would be hard. People rarely liked to change. Owain couldn't blame them. When they weren't in meetings he stayed in the infirmary, where they kept Inigo. He was going to get better. He had to.

He was sitting beside Inigo's bed and holding on to his hand. He slid his thumb over Inigo's palm and with it he dragged white healing light, making unintelligible patterns. He was startled when Chrom spoke to him. He hadn't heard him come in.

“Lissa thinks he'll be waking up in the next day or two... and actually staying that way, for a change.”

Owain nodded his head, and hardly looked at Chrom, but he knew that Chrom was looking at him. Intently. He said “You look exhausted. Have you even had a good rest since the accident?”

Owain wasn't sure why he opened up about this part of his life with his uncle, but he shook his head no. “When I try to sleep I have nightmares.” He continued to trace glowing patterns on Inigo's hand, and he studied the rise and fall of his chest. It was much more relaxed, now. It wasn't scary to watch him lay there. He looked more like he was sleeping than struggling for his life. “I already lost Cynthia, I can't...”

Chrom put his hand on Owain's shoulder. “He'll be fine if you leave his side for one night, Owain. Lissa truly believes the worst is over.” Owain wanted to believe him. He wanted to agree that sleep was for the best.

“I can't.”

“Lissa told me she thinks you're expending too much energy on magic. You'll kill yourself if you keep this up.”

“...”

Chrom sighed. It was an annoyed sigh, and although he couldn't see it he could imagine Chrom was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was quiet for a long while before he asked “...So you two have been having an affair this whole time..?”

Owain looked at Chrom hoping to find anything but disappointment in his eyes. He worked hard to make his uncle proud. When he looked into Chrom's eyes what was reflected back wasn't disappointment or anger, though. Just genuine concern. “Did this happen before or after..?”

Owain shook his head. “I've loved him since we were just stupid kids in your past.” Owain answered. His voice was quiet, quieter than he was really used to speaking. He just... he didn't have the strength to be energetic right then. “Cynthia and I staged everything, we wanted to ensure the future of Ylisse... because she had nothing left to lose and I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Chrom didn't say anything at first. He just watched Owain rub white circles into Inigo's hand, and watched Inigo's fingertips twitch every now and then when he struck a nerve. “You made a very... noble choice, Owain. Marrying someone you would never love, that is.”

“Just because I wasn't _in love_ with her doesn't mean I didn't love her.” Didn't. Because she was gone. It was hard to wrap his head around it still. He could still vividly recall waking up with her hugging his back. “She's my family, she's Ophelia's mother... it hurts. She's gone and there's just never going to be as much sunshine in the world because of it. And I almost lost both—I almost...”

He pulled his hand away from Inigo's finally, to cover his face. He didn't want to cry. Chrom squeezed his unsteady shoulder. “He's alright.”

“He won't wake up!” Owain argued. Inigo should have been awake. He needed to be awake.

“He'll wake up soon.”

“What do I do?”

Chrom seemed confused. Reasonably so. Owain tried to explain himself. “We wanted—I was going to make a proper announcement, and make this public after this war. We wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't stain Cynthia's name, but... how am I supposed to do that now? How am I supposed to make sure her memory shines as bright as she did?”

For what it was worth, Chrom seemed to consider the question instead of just listen to it. “I... I suppose I will have to think about that. In the mean time Owain, please. Go sleep. I will stay with Inigo if it makes you feel more at ease.”

“I _can't_.”

“Nothing I can say will sway you?” Chrom asked. Owain knew he was doing his best. He was coming to him as his uncle, not as his mentor. He was probably coming on Lissa's behalf. Lon'qu had already tried. Owain took up tracing magic into Inigo's skin again.

“I have to stay with him.”

 

…

 

Come morning Inigo felt like he had a pile of bricks sitting on his chest. Owain had fallen asleep in a chair beside the bed, but on the opposite side Severa had joined him, and she was awake. She was the first person he noticed, actually, when he finally forced open his eyes. He tried to speak but his voice was more of a croak. “What happened?”

“You're awake! _Gods_! I didn't think you were ever going to—we were so scared, you asshole! Never do that again!”

It was a lot to take in at once. The way she said it, and the fact that they were in a building... well he assumed he'd been asleep a lot longer than it felt. In fact, he was exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. He couldn't remember at first, but the longer he was awake the more everything came back to him, and he tried to sit up.

He gasped in pain and Severa gasped in what was probably surprise. He felt her grip his shoulders and hold him in place. He couldn't lay back down or sit up properly like that. “Idiot.” She grumped at him, but she shifted the pillows so that they would prop him up better. Then she gently pushed him back to lay on them.

A quick glance told him Owain was there. Safe and sound, his Exalt sleeping on the side of the bed. He looked... stressed, for lack of a better word. There were dark circles under his eyes that just didn't belong there. Inigo looked away from him, and back to Severa.

“Did Cynthia..?”

“She didn't make it.” Severa stood up and looked around until she found a pitcher with water in it. She returned with a glass and Inigo took a sip. He was only slightly embarrassed that she didn't trust him to hold the cup himself. The water soothed his dry throat, and at least his voice sounded a little better. He looked at Owain again. He seemed like he was stirring, but Severa seemed to catch Inigo's thoughts. “Let him sleep a little longer. This is the first time he's even tried to sleep since you got hurt. He really thought you were going to die. We all did, sort of.”

“I _should_ have died in her stead.”

Rage. That was the tone that Severa had when she said “Ex _cuse_ me?”

“She was the queen! I should have protected her. Instead she died trying to save me.” A tear slid down his face. Was he always so emotional? He supposed he was. He was surprised when Severa reached out and squeezed his hand.

“She didn't try to save you, she did. And you almost saved her. Sure, she's gone, but she gave you this chance to be with Soleil and see her grow up. And she gave you the chance to be with Owain, and to raise Ophelia with him or whatever. Don't let everything she did for you go to waste.”

It was eerily familiar to the way he felt about his parents sacrifices, when they died. The only difference was when his parents died he didn't have the ache in his body that someone else could blame him for it. He hadn't been at fault. What would Ylisstol think? What would the whole country think? She said that he should raise Ophelia with Owain but that was impossible to fathom. How could he? All of Ylisse would know him as the man who got their queen killed. He would be an absolute _shame_. His voice was tiny when he said “Owain must hate me, Severa.”

She laughed. It was bitter, not jovial. “I think he might disagree!” She rolled her eyes and shifted to cross one leg over the other in her chair. It reminded Inigo that he had been injured in his leg. He wiggled his toes. All there. That was a relief, he supposed. “I wasn't joking earlier. He hasn't slept. I couldn't even get him to leave this room to eat. The only time he left was when he had to deal with negotiations—and do you know what he did? _Ordered_ me to stay with you.”

Inigo snorted but then clutched at his hip. That wound must not have healed yet. It hurt to laugh. “You took orders from a man in a tiara?”

“It was disgusting.” She smiled. It was tiny, but genuine. Inigo appreciated it. “Anyway,” She murmured. “He definitely misses her, but he doesn't hate you. Not even close.”

“Ophelia _needed her_.” Inigo said.

“Soleil needs you.”

“Owain needed her.” He tried again. Didn't she see? Sure, Inigo was great. He was glad he was alive. But he wasn't the queen. He hadn't been organizing events or funding orphanages or any of the other incredible projects that she had been.

Even though he should have expected their conversation to wake him up, Inigo was still startled when Owain put in his two cents. “I need you.” It was just a whisper, but it had made Inigo gasp sharply enough that it hurt and it made Severa smile.

“If you guys are about to get mushy I'm leaving. I'll send Lissa in here in a few minutes.” Severa muttered. She squeezed Inigo's hand again. “Not that I was that worried or anything—but thanks for not dying.”

All he could do was nod at her, mouth agape. Owain caught his attention again by squeezing his opposite hand. “You're alright.”

“I—I'm so sorry, Owain, I tried to save her, I...” Owain hugged him. It hurt so bad. Inigo wanted to scream because his hip was not fond of the strain put on it when he was pulled forward. At the same time he never wanted to let go. His arms were a little weak from disuse, but he managed to lift them around Owain's shoulders (to help support himself) and also to squeeze him as tightly as he could. It wasn't that tight. “She wouldn't drink the elixir.” He said against the skin of Owain's neck. “I wanted her to be there for Ylisse, I...”

“I forgive you.”

It was absolutely shocking. Inigo supposed he had expected Owain to assure him that it wasn't his fault. It _was_ his fault. Most assuredly. Instead of trying to convince him otherwise... Owain forgave him. He hadn't expected it, but he was so glad... because it felt so much better. He cried on Owain's shoulder, and eventually the pain in his side faded and he was comfortable. “I love you, Owain. I...just love you.” There wasn't much else he had to say. They had lived through another war, but of course it had it's price. Inigo didn't know what was next, but... he knew that he would find a way to make the most of what Cynthia had given him.

“I love you so much, Inigo.” He combed his fingers through Inigo's hair, and he helped to lay him back onto the pillows, and he said “Please, never leave me again.”

Inigo knew, deep down, he never would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST DONE GUYS THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS WILL GO UP TOGETHER AS A DOUBLE UPDATE AND THEN KABLOOM STORY IS OVER GET PUMPED WE ALMOST MADE IT.
> 
> au where i got all my typos fixed before i posted this chapter tbh.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goooooooin to the chapel and we're goooooonnna get maaaaaaaarrriedddddd

Ophelia was three years old and Inigo couldn't help but think she was growing up too fast. Soleil was almost four and he had the same feelings about her. He wanted to stack a pile of books on their heads, and maybe they would be heavy enough to weigh them down and stop them from getting any bigger. They were perfect little princesses as is.

The garden had grown and changed as it always did, and there were many flowers growing in the springtime. A new memorial stood alongside the one once dedicated to Morgan. It seemed appropriate for Cynthia's to be there. The hedge maze was full of roses again, and the air smelled so sweet this time of year.

Ophelia was sitting quietly in the grass with her dress splayed out around her and a pile of flowers in front of her. The dress was mostly white, but it had pale yellow trims and laces. There were fluffy layered petticoats and a big ribbon tied on the back. Although she was sitting on the ground, Inigo wasn't too worried about her getting dirty. She was a little girl, it was to be expected. Every few seconds she reached out and picked up another stem to tie it to another.

Inigo wasn't as gifted as Ophelia was when it came to making jewelry out of flowers. Soleil wasn't as good either. Ophelia had learned how to make them from her grandmother, Sumia. Occasionally Ophelia attempted to teach Inigo, and he got the concept, but he just had trouble tying the knots so small. It took precision. He was impressed she was so talented!

This one was made of bluish purple flowers, and she held it up to examine it. When she did, he said “My, my, how lovely. Are you going to wear it during the ceremony today?” It would take place in the afternoon, and Inigo was spending time in the garden to pass the time. The week leading up to this had been hectic and tiring, but... well he knew it would all be worth it.

Ophelia shook her head. When she did her short bangs bounced, but the rest of her hair was pulled up in a tight bun upon her head, and decorated with pretty pins. “No! You!” She wasn't much for talking yet, but the words she did speak always came out powerful. Inigo imagined that once she grew out of these choppy sentences she would be just as talkative as Owain. She had already taken up striking silly poses from time to time.

Admittedly Inigo was surprised. She wanted him to wear a flower crown? He supposed he hadn't been lying, it _was_ quite pretty. He wondered if some people would disapprove. The approval of Ylisstol had weighed heavily on Inigo over the past few years. He wanted to do everything right—even with Henry insisting that it was _impossible_ to please everyone. Then again, he supposed so long as he had the Exalt's approval it hardly mattered what anyone else thought about the flowers, and... well why would the Exalt belittle a tiara made by his own precious daughter? He asked “You want me to wear it?” Just to make sure. She beamed at him.

“Yes! It matches!” She wasn't wrong. His clothes were mostly white. but the accents on his shirt were a similar shade of blue to the flowers she was knotting together. He'd been sized and fitted and Inigo had to admit he hadn't ever had clothes made specifically to fit his body. Not only to fit, but to flatter. It was somewhat embarrassing. The clothes were also very nice, though... and he knew that in the near future most of his wardrobe would be custom tailored to him.

“I need more...” Ophelia said more to herself than to Inigo. She stood and ran away, off to pick more flowers, and Inigo watched how clumsy her steps were. It was cute. He knew she would grow out of that eventually. Or, at least, he hoped. If she took entirely after Owain she would be very graceful on her feet, and Inigo's influences may help her too. If she took anything after Cynthia or Sumia, however, she was destined for clumsiness. Time would tell.

Not a moment after Ophelia ran away, Inigo noticed Soleil racing towards him. For a second it seemed like she would crash right into him, he even raised his hands and winced... but she came to an unsteady stop right in front of him. He was happy to see her, as always, but his face fell when he noticed that she was disheveled. “Wh-What happened?” He asked. Her dress was bunched up and the ribbon lopsided, but with smoothing and luck maybe he could make it good as new. Her dress was almost the same as Ophelia's seam for seam, but instead of yellow it had shades of pink running through it. It was almost the same shade as her hair. Inigo actually liked it quite a bit.

“I was dancing, um, and I fell!” She whined. She stepped into Inigo's arms and he steadied her. She stood as tall as he was—although he was sitting in the grass and she was on her feet. She was always a ball of energy, always running off exploring, and sometimes it was a challenge to keep up with her. Luckily she hadn't learned how to sneak out of the castle, yet.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and a smile slid onto his lips. Soleil tried to dance. Bless her heart, she had two left feet and a singing voice that could compare to a drunken goose. But... she was so cute when she tried, and he was sure that she would get better with practice. She nodded her head at him and he spun her around. When she was facing away from him he pulled back the ribbon on her dress, and retied it. He was about to say that she was all better, when he noticed... “Oh. Your hair.”

Soleil looked over her shoulder at him, and she asked “Is it messed up?”

“Mm, sit down.” He answered, and she plopped down in front of him. It was a _miracle_ that her dress was still white, and not stained green by the grass. “Your curls fell out. I told her they wouldn't stay.”

“Told grandmother?” Soleil asked, and Inigo nodded... not that she saw.

“Absolutely! Her hair curls much easier than yours or mine ever could. Here, let's try this instead.” One by one he pulled the pins out of her hair, letting all the curls fall down over her shoulders. Once he had that done he twisted strands around until she had two braids pulled back into a half-ponytail. It was... hardly the most elegant thing, but it was nicer than her normal disheveled hair and Inigo was by no means a stylist. While she waited to be set free, Soleil plucked at some of the grass underneath them.

“Is it pretty?” Inigo wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. Her back slammed into his chest and she squealed out a laugh. “Hey!”

“You, my love, are always beautiful. The prettiest girl I know.”

“Nuh-uh, daddy, Ophelia is prettiest.” Soleil squirmed in his arms until he let go. Ophelia returned with a fresh armful of flowers, and Inigo shook his head slowly.

“Perhaps it's a draw.” A glance at the sky and Inigo was sure that it was nearly noon. They had time. He imagined Soleil's hair would look twice as lovely with flowers in it, and so he asked “Ophelia? Do you think you can make a tiara for your sister, too?”

Ophelia smiled and nodded her head, and Soleil gasped in excitement. “Can we make Ophelia one too?” She asked. Could they? That was an excellent question and depended entirely upon their combined flower tying efforts.

He nodded his head. “Yes—let's go pick out some flowers to match your dresses.”

 

…

 

“Inigo? Iniiiiiiigoooooo? Are you out here?” Severa was calling for him, and she sounded mad. Inigo supposed that wouldn't do. He called back to her so that she would come over, but he regretted it the moment she shouted at him. “What are you doing on the _ground_? Your clothes are _white_!”

_Her_ clothes weren't white. She was dressed in a lovely gown, something that was a rare treat to see her in. “I was entertaining these precious princesses.” He shrugged. He had been careful. He was sure his clothes were fine. Severa reached out to him and he clasped his hand around her wrist and let her pull him to his feet. “You're gorgeous, you know. No one will even notice if I've stained my clothes. All eyes will be on your radiant beauty.”

Severa stuck her tongue out between her teeth, and Inigo wondered if she refused to let people flirt with her because she truly thought she wasn't as special as her mother. Surely by now she saw that she was a gem, didn't she? She said, “Gross. But _trust me_. Everyone will be looking at you. _Everyone_. Staring. Right at you.”

He had been smirking at her, but it faltered. “Don't remind me.” He begged. While he processed the idea of an entire city staring _directly_ at him, she circled around him and swatted at some dust on his tights. Aside from that he must have been fine. She didn't lecture him any.

“I've been looking everywhere for you, idiot. You're late! Were you just going to play in the garden all day and leave him to have the ceremony by himself? Jeez. That's cruel.”

“Late?” How? He laughed nervously. They must have gotten carried away. “I—we were distracted.”

“Well let's _go_!” Severa groaned. “Quick, before they start without you!”

“Daddy, wait!” Inigo hesitated. He turned around and Soleil was looking at him with big, round eyes. “You can't get married!” She looked horrified, like she'd seen a ghost, and Severa exchanged glances with Inigo. Then he crouched down to her level, and he pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

“I know it sounds like a big change, Soleil, but you know this won't really change much at all, don't you?”

“I know, but...”

Inigo hummed, interrupted her, and she pouted at him. “...And don't you want Ophelia to be your little sister 'for real'?”

“Yes! But _daddy_!” Finally he waited. He wanted to know what she had to say, because if she had any fears about this he meant to quell them quickly. Soleil realized he was waiting for her, and she puffed out her cheeks and balled up her fists and _huffed_ (and he almost laughed), and she said “You _forgot_!”

“Er...” Inigo couldn't think of what he could have forgotten. He faked a smile to cover his confusion, at first.“I forgot...? Remind me, then?”

Ophelia stood up from the grass and hurried over, a toddle in her step. In her hands were the indigo flowers, all tied up just so. He realized what he'd forgotten then, and he was somewhat embarrassed to have accused his smart, beautiful daughter of being worried about the wedding. She was only worried about his promise to wear a tiara made of flowers. He ducked for her, and Ophelia stood on her toes and placed the crown on him just perfectly. “You said, you said!”

It fit like a dream, not sagging on his head. Ophelia was truly gifted with flowers, just as her mother and grandmother were. “Ah, it's just perfect.” He complimented—in spite of the fact that he couldn't really see himself. “I would expect no less from a chosen maiden such as Ophelia Dusk.” As it turned out, no one else had the honor of hearing Cynthia call herself by that name. Most of their encounter on the cliff was a haze. He remembered little of their conversation, but he remembered her wishes for him to care for Ophelia.

The first time Inigo called her Ophelia Dusk she hardly noticed, she was just a wee thing. Owain had been ecstatic, and quickly picked it up too. Eventually Inigo hoped to teach Ophelia to do other silly things. His next goal was to have her run to Owain and scream some nonsense about her aching blood at him, if only to see how he reacted.

But he didn't have time to teach her now. He had a ceremony to attend. He pulled her forward and kissed the top of her head, and did the same to Soleil, and then he winked at them. “Be good, girls.”

Sumia and Olivia were there to claim them, and Severa gripped his hand and finally dragged him away. “Gods, we're so late.” She grumbled as she pulled him through the corridors. She weaved through people and halls and couldn't help laughing at her.

“That may be the case but I'd like to keep my arm attached if it's all the same to you. You know they can't _actually_ start without me, don't you? I should think it would be difficult.”

They came to a stop in front of the large, embossed cathedral doors, and Severa turned to face him. “Are you actually going to wear that?” She asked. It took him a moment to realize she meant the flowers. He put his hand to his chest to dramatically mock offense.

“They made it for me!” He wanted to wear it. Ophelia had worked hard on it, and he wanted her to be proud of herself. “Who am I to tell a pair of lovely ladies no?” Severa must have been amused because she smiled and reached out to straighten the flowers on his head, and no doubt lay them just right. Then she fixed a strand of her hair, and she looked at him so fondly he wasn't sure he deserved the honor.

“You're getting married.” She said. He repeated it back to her, with a warm smile.

“I'm getting married.”

“ _Really_ married. With rings and vows and children.”

“Really married.” He nodded. It was still something of a shock to him, he supposed. It had taken a few years. Owain and Inigo had worked hard to ensure that Cynthia's projects and name lived on far and wide. Inigo had stepped in to take her place on many of them, relieved of most of his duties as a retainer. Chrom suggested that his work on the projects would make it less jarring when they did announce their marriage. He also suggested that Cynthia be remembered as much as possible. Inigo had been happy to include her name in everything he could. She was, after all, his hero. Still... he hardly thought he lived up to her greatness.

“Does this mean you'll be retiring your trips into town to harass the ladies?” Severa asked. Her question was interrupted by one of the staff members pushing the doors open and gesturing for Inigo to enter. He hesitated just long enough to pull Severa's hand up to his mouth to kiss, and to say,

“On the contrary, what sort of woman wouldn't want to have tea with a prince?”

 

…

 

When the ceremony ended Owain was sure this was the way one was meant to feel on his wedding day. When he married Cynthia he was anxious and lying to his people, and while he'd come to cherish his time with her... well this was entirely different. From the very moment he was able to slide a ring onto Inigo's hand, he was euphoric. Dancing with him, he felt the same way.

He thought he would be wary of the people looking. Even Owain knew that not _everyone_ would approve. He hardly noticed people watching him, because his eyes were glued to Inigo and the smile he cherished so much. He had much improved his dancing technique since he'd first asked Inigo to teach him years before, and he was proud to say that he didn't need to look at his feet. He hadn't stumbled. He was even able to have quiet conversation with his _husband_. Of course, he'd had a few more lessons since then.

It was incredible. Inigo had always been so much more than just a friend. His best friend. They had seen each other through hell and back but now... now it was over. He was sure. Everything ahead of them would be smooth sailing. Even if it wasn't... well they would always have each other. Always be comrades in arms, always be rivals, and most importantly always be together.

“Ophelia does fine work. You should wear flowers in your hair all the time.”

Inigo blushed, but he had been doing that the entire evening. Likely a side effect of being the center of attention. Everyone had their eyes on their new lord. Owain found it hard to look away from him—he was gorgeous. “Oh? And here I was worried it may be too informal. I wanted to look my best, after all.”

“Ha! You, my love, are the very embodiment of radiance. These flowers, woven by the hands of an angel, only add to your divine beauty.” He laughed a little louder when Inigo reached up and whacked him in the head. He'd always been horrible at receiving compliments.

Still, Inigo said “I love you.” And Owain knew he meant it with all his heart. They were meant to be together, like this.

“And I, you, Inigo of the _Indigo_ Skies.” He joked, of course, because the distinct color of the blossoms. He would have loved to see the reaction his husband had, but his teasing was interrupted. Two little girls ran hand in hand, frantically rushed them, right onto the dance floor and shouting all the while.

“Father!” They called, and “wait!” and Owain crouched in front of them with some amount of worry on his face. He was halfway through forming the words to ask if she was alright, but Ophelia pulled another flower tiara (this one made of white an pink daisies, it didn't match his wedding attire _at all.)_ from behind her back and plopped it right onto his head.

Soleil clapped her hands together and giggled. “Now we all have one!” She explained. Inigo snickered from behind him.

Owain was only confused for a moment, before he grinned and scooped Ophelia up in his arms. He twirled her around and she squealed. “Magnificent! A circlet crafted by the hands of such a masterful sorceress—I can feel its power pulsing through me!” Ophelia's face broke into excitement and she started to come up with a story about the flowers. Owain noticed, as he twirled one of his daughters around, that his dance partner had preoccupied himself with finishing his dance with Soleil—who was a _much_ better dancer when she was balanced on her father's hip.

Four years before, when they returned to Ylisse, Owain wouldn't have pictured himself here. Not in a million years, really, would he have thought he would be a ruler that people _believed in_. He didn't think he would have two beautiful daughters, or that he would be marrying his best friend.

Well...

That wasn't true. It didn't matter what world they were in, what dimension they hailed from. In any world, in any time, in any universe... Owain knew that he would always be drawn to Inigo, because it didn't really matter where they were, so long as they were together. Owain would spend the rest of his life making sure they always would be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know this is the legitimate end of the story. The next chapter is just bonus material because I can. This fluffy nonsense is the end.


	16. Xenologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious light appears in the woods just outside of town, and Ophelia insists that she and Soleil investigate. They're met with something unexpected.

They were running. Normally Soleil wouldn't have had trouble keeping up with her sister but... well in this particular instance she wasn't all that motivated to be dashing away from the marketplace. “Ophelia! Where are we going?” She called.

Of the two of them, Ophelia always looked more like a princess. She wore a delicate tiara and her hair was always beautiful and even her most casual clothes made her look so perfect. She was _adorable_! Soleil on the other hand often wore more convenient clothes. She took a lot of inspiration for her clothing from her 'aunt' Severa. She loved to go shopping with her.

Almost as much as she loved flirting up the ladies in town, which she thought about as her sister turned to look back over her shoulder. “We go where the fair finger of fate points us, sister!”

“Right,” Soleil grinned, in spite of her discontent. “And normally that's great and all, but I was _really_ hitting it off with that girl in— _woah_.”

Ophelia stopped running and Soleil almost ran into her, but her focus was entirely on the mysterious light in front of her. She couldn't really describe it. It was a pillar of light, but it almost seemed like a crack—right in the air. Ophelia swayed and rocked on her heels, gazing at it, and she said “Isn't it incredible?”

“Yeah, but what _is it_?” She asked. It was captivating. Something about it made her want to walk closer, it drew her in like she belonged to it.

“I don't know!” Ophelia answered, and she gestured to it. “But it's magnificent! Truly, a divine light! I had to show you!” She seemed to hesitate a moment, and then she added, “I promise to help you find a new date, later.”

Soleil wasn't mad. This really was remarkable. Where had it come from? What did it mean? She stepped forward, closing in on it like she might touch it, but... “W- _Ahhh!_ ” Something _hit her_. Not just hit her, but fell into her. A person. Instinct made her raise her arms when someone fell against her, but she couldn't support them both in her shock so she fell. They fell. A person. A person came out of the light.

“What manner of sorcery..!” Ophelia had exclaimed. Soleil opened her eyes. She had been expecting danger, someone horribly scary come from the great beyond. What she saw was...

 _Curls_. Perfect, bouncy, spirals. They fell down over Soleil and when she looked up she saw confused and worried eyes looking at her. _Pink_. A pink beret and it was _adorable_ and.... “Wow—um—hi. Glad I caught you.”

“Goodness.” Was the response. Soleil was surprised. It didn't... It didn't _sound_ like a very feminine voice. And yet this beautiful person in front of her looked like an angel from above, or whatever Ophelia would call it. “I—Please help me.”

“Help you?” Soleil asked. She got back to her feet and offered a hand to help up the stranger. “Sure, I guess. But can we know your name first?”

“My name is Forrest—second prince of Nohr—I--I'm being chased, I...”

 _Oh_. It _was_ a boy. Well honestly Soleil had never heard of 'Nohr', but if the boys there looked like this she might have more hope in men. Ophelia was the one who asked “Who is chasing you?”

He didn't have to answer. Seconds later a burst of light came from the rift, and a whole group of _something_ appeared. Half alive soldiers, all of them with glowing eyes. Her previous smile (which had been directed at her new favorite prince ever) faded off of her face entirely. It was with a sharp tug on his wrist that she tugged the prince behind her. “Ophelia stay behind me, alright?”

Of the two, Ophelia often was the more mature. They were so close in age that being older than her hardly mattered. Ophelia always knew what to say and what to do and how to act. Maybe it was all that exalted blood mumbo jumbo. Soleil was glad that Ophelia was the one that the task of leadership was falling upon and not her.

Of course, if they were killed by half-invisible-ghost-bandits, it didn't particularly matter _who_ was supposed to be heir. They'd all be dead. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Ophelia had a tome in her hands. Already she was charging herself with its energy, prepared to fight. Soleil wished she would just stay back. If she died then Ylisse would be in a world of trouble, wouldn't it? In the very least if she stayed far enough behind her, Soleil could still keep her safe.

She also noticed that Forrest had a rod of some sort in his hand. It was obviously meant for healing, but she couldn't place it. It wasn't decorated the same way that the heal rods she had ever seen before were. Had he been carrying that before? She had been way too interested in his beautiful face to even think about looking for weapons. If he was an enemy he would have killed her. “I can heal you if you're hurt! Please—be careful!”

She drew her sword. She wasn't a master with it yet. She'd only just taken up practicing a few years ago. Her parents had a lot more to teach her, but one of the ghost men jumped at her and with excellent precision he swung. She barely dodged, but brought down her weapon. She winced when it cut through the monster. It wasn't like skin, it didn't bleed or anything. It was like cutting through a fog almost, but...

She realized perhaps a little too late that this wasn't sparring. These weapons weren't dulled and practically harmless. This wasn't her doting daddy, correcting her moves as she made them and being a little slower on purpose when he had the upper hand, giving her a window to catch up. Ophelia was silent behind her, nervous, not cheering her on. Her other father wasn't calling out advice, waiting to heal either of them if they were injured. This wasn't a game. This was really real.

She'd never done this before. “O-Okay. I've got this!” She decided. Ophelia was her teammate. They did spend almost all their time together. They were just as much best friends as they were sisters. She must have understood the gravity of the situation too, because she began making a strategy. It was easy enough for Soleil to see. She weakened the monsters with a bolt of lightning. It crackled down and slowed them down. Then Soleil ran ahead and cut them down. This method carried them through _mostly_ safely. Once Soleil was nicked in the arm. She'd hardly noticed, but Forrest had, true to his word, run forward to heal the wound. It almost tickled. She'd never been injured enough to be healed with a real stave. Always just little injuries that either healed on their own or her father wiped away with his hands.

Then Forrest gasped, and he held in a noise that was surely pain, and Soleil realized that one of their enemies had cut him. His face was cut, a thin line of blood from his ear to his nose, and Soleil nearly choked in her worry. “Get back, get back!” Sure enough with only three or four (they were hard to see well enough to count) left, Soleil realized they were trapped. “We're surrounded.” She panted. She was shaking, but was it from fear or exhaustion? It was a horrible choice to make, Soleil decided after the fact, but she turned to look behind her. “Ophelia! You two go, run! Go get help!”

Ophelia was put off by the comment. She was sweating. Soleil knew that using magic took a physical toll on a person, but she'd never seen Ophelia use it enough to cause a strain on her. Maybe they were both too inexperienced for real combat. Henry always went easy on her, when he helped Ophelia with spells. Owain was the same way. She supposed training them for war seemed pointless, when the world was happily at peace.

“I shall not!” Ophelia was indignant. Her delicate voice was usually amusing when she was upset. Soleil wasn't laughing this time. “I cannot leave you behind! You are the light that breaks through the dusk! We are a te—Look out!”

It was with a very undignified squeak that Soleil blocked an axe. She raised her sword above her head and the weight of it required both her hands—and she was scared. “O-Ophelia _go_!” She needed help. How long could she defend herself like this? If he lifted the axe she was quick enough to parry (maybe) but... what if one of the others got here first? She had heard the story, now and then, of how their dad got that scar on his hip. Wasn't he in this same situation?

She was shaking harder, and she realized it was too scary to even smile. Ophelia didn't say anything, did that mean she had left? Soleil was afraid to look behind her and check. She certainly hoped so. If one of them had to die today it really shouldn't be the future ruler, right? But what was she thinking, death? She was only sixteen! She was _way_ too young to die. She was hardly even old enough to know what death was!

The weight of the axe was too strong on her trembling arms, and Soleil was afraid the slim sword she had might break in half. She wasn't strong enough. She was scared. She closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the weight lifted. Soleil fell.

 

…

 

Soleil fell backwards a few steps. She dropped her sword and landed not on the ground, but in Inigo's waiting arms. Owain stepped away from them, he swung Falchion to eliminate the ghost bandit who had nearly bested Soleil. Ghosts or not, he imagined he would have obliterated anyone who dared to hurt his children. But these were certainly ghosts. Not only that, but... they were nerve-wrackingly familiar ghosts. He had seen these monsters before.

When he turned around Inigo was pushing back Soleil's bangs and whispering to her, asking if she was alright. He must have been satisfied that she wasn't hurt, because he pushed her in the direction of Ophelia and Forrest and said “Take your sister and stay back.”

Inigo joined him, and between the two of them they made quick work of the remaining specters. It was nostalgic to fight with Inigo. They fell into the same rhythm they'd shared since they were practically the same age as Ophelia and Soleil. They weren't scared children anymore, though. They were strong, and experienced, and wiser than they looked. When it was done Owain noticed Inigo stepping away from him, walking closer to the light that had caused all of this.

Soleil ran closer to Owain, and he turned to hold her face and look into her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine! I promise! How did you know we were here?” She asked, and she sounded a little more nervous than normal. Like she thought she was in trouble. Was she? Perhaps. Ophelia and Soleil should have known to _run_ , not to engage. It terrified him. He couldn't imagine a world without her in it.

“We saw the smoke coming off the thunder spells.” Inigo answered. He walked back to them, and as he approached Ophelia seemed to brighten. Owain knew she didn't make that smoke on purpose, but he hoped she might remember this day if she was ever in danger again. The smoke in the air released by her spells could be a beacon.

“Oh!” Ophelia nearly choked when she saw red on Owain's arm. He was bleeding? He hadn't even made a sound. How could someone be cut by a blade and not even shout? It was almost scary. “Father, your arm!”

“I'm alright.” Owain dismissed it. He was fine. It was shallow. He meant to ignore it entirely, but then the young lady that had been with Soleil and Ophelia stepped forward and nervously began to use the staff on his arm. Inexperience. Owain could tell that this was a beginner, just like his children were new to their talents. He had assumed this was a date that Soleil had picked up in town, but something seemed... different. The complexion of her skin, the clothes she was wearing... it was familiar. “Who are you?” He asked, watching as his skin began to knit back together seamlessly.

“I—My name is Forrest. I was just taking a stroll through the woods when I was ambushed. I ran through this strange light. I'm terribly sorry for the trouble—and that you were hurt. How is that, is it better?”

Oh. Well maybe it wasn't a girl. That was interesting... but by far not the most important or the oddest thing that had happened that day. “Yes, I'm fine.” He murmured. Taking Forrest in, he was confused by the blood smeared across his face. “Why didn't you tend to your own wound?”

“O-Oh, I... it's nothing.” Forrest answered. Owain wondered if that was a lie. Inexperienced healers couldn't always heal their own wounds. Sometimes even the greatest healers couldn't heal themselves. Magic didn't always work to benefit the wielder. He slid his hand up to cup the young man's cheek. He couldn't have been older than Ophelia. Why had he been alone in the woods? Owain supposed he couldn't judge his parents for that—after all his own kids had run off without permission too. Forrest downright blushed a rosy shade of pink when Owain held his face. The embarrassment faded into understanding and awe when the white light made quick work of wiping the wound away from his face like it had never been there. “Oh—you can heal without a stave?”

Forrest looked distinctly familiar. Owain recognized his face, although he knew he had never met him before. It was bothering him. Inigo chuckled from his side. “He couldn't always do that! Trust me, talent comes slowly to this one.”

Owain meant to ask Forrest where he was from. That light looked a lot like the entrances that they had created to the different deep realms during their time in Nohr, but... well deep realms just weren't part of Ylisse. Or, in the very least, he'd never heard of one yet. He meant to ask him if he had other injuries, if he was alright, if they could help him get home safely. Instead he heard Ophelia shriek. He heard Soleil suck in a sharp gasp and run forward. He _saw_ Inigo catch her wrist so she couldn't move. They turned around, in the direction of the rift of light. Owain _expected_ to see more bandits, to have to defend his family. What he _saw_ was nothing of the sort.

It was a man. A real man. Familiar. So familiar. Almost unchanged. He had twisted Ophelia's arm behind her back, pulled her close to him, and he had the tip of an arrow perched at her throat—waiting. Owain froze. He didn't dare run forward, not a step, because what if he killed her? Inigo shared the sentiment it seemed. The only one who moved was Soleil, who squirmed and tried to break out of Inigo's grasp.

“Unhand the prince before I rip her little arm clean off.” He said. Owain was at a loss. Behind him was another man. Both of them. Both of them here. Time had changed them very little, and Owain wondered if they even recognized them. Were these the same men he used to fight beside? Perhaps they were from another world, another dimension, not the same. He found it impossible to speak up.

Soleil didn't. “Ophelia!” She called out but she finally stilled. She turned to look at her parents like they were crazy. “Aren't you going to do something?”

Owain's hand had long since fallen from Forrest's face. He had been healed up in only a few seconds, but Owain's shock lasted longer than that. He gently (too gently, lest it look like aggression) pushed Forrest forward. He cleared his throat and walked freely back to the men. Owain wasn't worried these were captors. They weren't here to hurt Forrest. They obviously weren't. In fact, Owain now knew why Forrest's face had been so familiar, his clothes and his accent, all of it.

Recognition. Owain was sure that was what was registering on the faces across from them. Niles and Leo. Here—in Ylisse—and did they recognize them? Inigo must have thought they did. He must have, because he was the first one to speak up. “Please let her go.”

As soon as Forrest stepped close enough for Leo to lay his hand on his shoulder, Owain saw Niles lower the arrow and release Ophelia. He hadn't waited for an order by any means. He didn't even torment her like he would normally—He just let go and Ophelia sprinted back into Inigo's arms. He pulled her closer, he kissed her forehead, and there was just... silence.

Were these really the same men? The risk that perhaps they hailed from a different timeline was large enough that Owain was nervous to imply he knew them. Finally he heard Leo mumble, and he said to Niles “Is that..?”

“Yes.”

“Why are they... do they think we can't see them?” He spoke a little louder. “Do you think we can't _see you_?”

“It wouldn't be the first crazy thing they've ever done.” Niles murmured back. Owain felt his lips curling into a smile, he couldn't help it really. It really was them. Really them.

Finally. Finally Leo asked him his name. He said “Odin?”

Owain hardly considered it a question. He wasn't in some sort of disguise. Granted, his hair was brown where it had been blonde in Nohr, but... Well anyone could change their appearance. Leo himself was very masterful at creating disguises out of magic. Still, he must have known magic wasn't at work here, because he asked “Your hair? Your clothes..?”

Was he allowed to explain it? A glance at Inigo confirmed that he had no idea, either. Severa wasn't here—she was back at the castle. They hadn't wasted time finding her when they saw the smoke. If she was here she would probably tell them if they were allowed to say it or not.

“Well, well. It seems you weren't a man without a past after all.” Niles had a very memorable smirk. Owain had never forgotten it, or the sticky sweet tone to his voice. It was always suggestive. It was always flirtatious, but not nearly the way that Inigo's was. With Niles there had always been an undertone dripping with sex.

Leo must have been truly baffled. He looked like he was having trouble processing everything, but what he did gather he gathered from Owain's clothes, from his circlet, and from the way he had learned to carry himself. He said “You're a prince?”

Owain was going to answer. Or maybe he wasn't. He still hadn't decided, still hadn't said anything. Soleil said it for him. She stepped forward with her arms raised to the sky. She wasn't as showy as Ophelia by nature (it really wasn't usually a good way to pick up girls), but she could certainly be sometimes. She said “Actually~!” In a sing-song voice. “Your sort-of-rude-and-probably-unworthy eyes are looking upon the amazing, the _incredible_ , the cutest, Owain Dark, Exalt of Ylisse; and his super duper strong and adorable husband, Lord Inigo.”

Owain wrapped his hand around her body, clamped it on her mouth. She muffled muted protests, raised her hands up to tug at him. He didn't pull away and she groaned in annoyance. Then she got an idea, it seemed, because she raked her tongue up his palm. It worked. He immediately pulled away from her and wiped her spit off on his shirt. “Dirty trick, Soleil.” He scolded, as if he hadn't done it a hundred times in his life, too.

“Owain and Inigo, you say?” Niles asked. He clicked his tongue. His arms were crossed, but he looked like he was quite enjoying his time here, not even being sneaky about snooping. “Very interesting.” He said.

Leo on the other hand stumbled over the other part of what Soleil had to say, and he seemed to be some combination of concerned and confused when he asked “You're _married_?” He composed himself somewhat. He shook his head like he was clearing away a swarm of thoughts, and Owain listened to him when he asked “You're them, aren't you? Odin and Laslow?”

Inigo glanced at him and Owain wasn't sure what to say. There was no sense in lying, was there? What harm could it do now, years later? It didn't seem to matter. He hesitantly nodded his head, and silence stretched between them again.

“You lied about your identities, the whole time? You left all those years ago without even a word. No note, no trinket, no evidence you even existed... and this whole time you were a crown prince? Nobility—both of you—acting as lowly servants? Why?”

“It's a long story.” Owain admitted. A very long story, one that he didn't really care to tell. Inigo shifted at his side and then Owain chuckled at his two cents.

“I wasn't a prince!” Like a child in trouble pinning the blame on his sibling. Who cared if he was a prince or not? He was still among the three of them who left for Nohr and hid their identities.

“Laslow!” Leo was exasperated. “Your entire time in Nohr you put up a ridiculous facade of being interested in women. You spent so much time flirting—it drove Xander up the wall!”

“That wasn't a facade!” Inigo argued. His pride was on the line, Owain imagined. All those trips out for tea were genuine. Honestly he still made time to sweet talk the ladies in the marketplace, now and then.

Niles snickered. “If I had known you were swaying in favor of men I may have been more persistent...”

“Ha! You think you would have stood a chance?” Owain challenged.

“Oh, trust me, I think I _still_ stand a fair chance.”

“Never! You wouldn't have swayed his heart, for he--”

Leo shouted. “ _Niles! Odin! Hush!_ ” The order made both men fall silent, but Owain cracked a wide smile and soon enough he heard a low bit of laughter from Niles. In return, Owain lost it and laughed without reserve, and he gestured to Niles.

“It seems you've upset Lord Leo yet again!” He quipped. The way that Niles rolled his gaze made a forgotten fondness rise in Owain's chest.

“You're the one who always upsets him.” Niles said. Maybe it was true. Their bickering had caused a fair share of stress for Leo throughout... well the entire time that Owain had been parading around Nohr as a mage. They had left... so much. When they came back to Ylisse they were high on the excitement of going home, and despite leaving behind the people they cared about... well it didn't hurt at the time. Now part of him missed it. The skies were never as bright and beautiful as they were in Ylisse, but the people of Nohr were like family to him. Especially Niles and Leo.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ophelia approached him. She seemed hesitant to speak up, but Owain hoped she knew that she would always come first. “I...” She said shyly. She extended her arm, and Owain could see bruises of Niles fingerprints forming. He wrapped his palm around it, since she was asking him to ease the pain. Niles didn't apologize for it. Owain honestly didn't expect him to. Finally Owain spoke up, having noticed that Leo was so quiet.

“Lord Leo?”

“I just don't understand.” Leo said. He cleared his throat. “Someone... Someone really let Odin rule a kingdom?”

“Mm, _and_ said he is to be exalted.” Niles added with a wicked grin.

Owain finally grew the confidence to walk closer, once Ophelia's arm was healed up. He stood in front of Leo and he said “I wanted to tell you the whole time, but... it was complicated. My name is Owain.”

“Yes, and Laslow is Inigo. I gathered from that girl, is she..?”

“They are both our daughters.”

“I see.”

Was it so confusing for him? Owain supposed it was a lot to take in when someone you thought you knew was a totally different person. Inigo broke the silence, he said “If I may speak freely--”

But Leo interrupted him. “You're a prince, Las—Inigo. You hardly need my permission to speak.”

Owain knew why Inigo asked. It was hard not to feel like they were still servants to the royal family. It was hard to talk to them as if they were equals, even if they were. “Right,” Inigo said. “Er—that is to say... those bandits who were chasing Forrest—er--Lord Forrest. They looked like..?”

They looked like the servants of Anankos. Owain had wondered the very same thing, and he waited for Leo's response. “They aren't.” The prince answered. “While similar to the ghosts that _he_ created... these are just monsters. No more than faceless, they can be created by skilled mages. We've had minor issues with rebellions off and on recently. Nothing out of our control.”

“Except for the ones who chased me here!” Forrest argued. He clearly had different feelings about the rebellions. Owain didn't know that he wanted to get involved.

“Yes, except for that. We should... we should be going.”

It was Ophelia who gasped and protested. She had been the one who they attacked, and still she seemed to grasp that these people were important to her parents. “Wait!” She said, “So soon? Destiny and her liege Fate have brought you together again, as friends! Won't you come back and visit with us at the castle?”

“Wow. She really is your daughter.” Niles snickered, and Leo shook his head no to the offer.

“No. We really need to get back and report to Xander. I—Odin—Owain... It was good to see you again.”

It was probably out of line by a mile, but Owain leaned forward to wrap Leo in an unsuspecting embrace. The hug was stiff at first, but eventually Leo groaned out a sigh and pat his back in return. When Owain stepped back he nodded a smile at Niles. He wanted to hear all about them. He wanted to know who Forrest's mother was. Was it someone he knew? He wanted to know if Niles had ever found someone he cared for deeply enough to love and not just lust after. He wanted to know how the other members of the royal family were doing. He wanted to hear about Hoshido and Valla. Were they still at peace? Their time together was truly fleeting.

“Lord Leo... You are always welcome in Ylisstol.”

It was with a grin in the direction of Leo and Niles that Inigo spoke up to add, “Although perhaps you leave the monsters behind the next time you come for a visit, yes? And do tell Lord Xander that I say hello and best wishes.”

Soleil and Ophelia ran forward together to bid farewell to their newfound friend, although there was no promises that they would ever see him again. After all, should Leo or Xander close up the rift between their worlds... well there was no way of knowing if one would ever open up again.

Soleil pulled Forrest's hand to her lips to kiss his knuckles, and Owain laughed when she said “Come back again soon, cutie!”

They were gone in a flash of light, through the portal, and Owain put his hands on Soleil and Ophelia's backs to guide them back to the castle. They didn't know it yet, but he was pretty sure they would be grounded. He would wait to break that to them when they were home, and he'd made plenty sure they were alright. After all, even against soulless monsters... well the first time a person took arms and fought in a real battle changed them.

Inigo glanced back over his shoulder, once more, and sure enough the rift disappeared. Owain hadn't imagined that Leo would leave such a dangerous gate open. Still it left him somewhat saddened. It would have been... comforting, to know how all things turned out.

“Severa may kill us.” Inigo spoke up.

“What Severa doesn't know won't hurt her.” Owain answered. Of course there was no way she wouldn't find out. She always found out. When she did, he supposed they would face the consequences of telling part of their story, and not even bothering to ask about the well being of Camilla or Beruka.

“Father..?” Ophelia asked, and Owain waited for her to ask her question. “Do you mean that you have traveled between worlds, and to far off kingdoms..?”

“Yeah! How come you never told us that?” Soleil asked.

“Mm, we'll have to tell you the story then.” Inigo decided. “But do me a favor first, my loves? When we get back home, go find Severa and ask her to come join us for tea in the gardens. It is a long story, you see, and I know she will want to be sure we are telling it right.”

Owain wondered if Inigo meant to tell them the whole story. The story of their past, their real pasts. He wondered if he would tell them the story of how they were just children and tasked with saving their world, and then another. Just so long as Owain was there to make sure one thing was clear, he supposed he didn't mind telling them about the wars they fought or the deaths they saw...

Just so long as they knew that there was a very happy ending.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really just shameless bonus content because I love Team Leo the most and wanted to reunite them. Like don't mind me. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and staying with me through all this! I really loved writing this fanfiction. :) It's done now but I'm not sure if I'm done with this verse. There's a fair chance that it will show up in one shots sometime in the future. In the mean time, here's what I'm working on next: 
> 
> -a oneshot about Dywer and Shigure because i love that ship and they have like what 4 fanfics about them??? why???
> 
> -A modern/college AU owainigo fic because i love it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also maybe i'll beat my hacked fates games now. Hardmode and I don't agree all the time. Thanks again!


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